


Of Sungods and Moon Children

by Bitchii_usa



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: AU, Angst, Art, Bromance to Romance, Drama, Drama & Romance, Family Drama, Fluff, High School, Killugon - Freeform, Kirugon - Freeform, M/M, Photography, Romance, Romantic Fluff, There may be sex, hunter x hunter au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 87,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitchii_usa/pseuds/Bitchii_usa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aged KilluxGon. AU<br/>Killua's life in his strict political family was...suffocating...at the very least. And the fact that his mind is always on the brink of breaking due to his family's secrets doesn't help him either. But a chance at freedom by way of public school allows him the flexibility to breathe and fall in love with art. </p><p>Gon is haunted by a past event that he can't run from, a dark shadow that doubles as a second skin. His chipper ways and artistic abilities as a photographer have given him a shell to hide in, but a new student threatens that, forcing him to break his walls.</p><p>What happens when two broken souls find each other? And where does that leave the others in their wake?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One: Killua

_**One** _

_**Killua** _

There was a certain kind of saltiness in the air before autumn invited itself in.

Killua wet the bottom of his lip with his tongue, tasting the fresh breeze and salt as it danced on his taste buds. Lying on his back against the last pile of crisp green leaves of the season, he wondered how anyone could take this sort of freedom for granted. The clouds above were hazy, threatening to rain for the umpteenth time that week. He stared straight ahead into the horizon, not wanting to blink in case little droplets of water decided to sneak into his irises.

"Are you alright?"

Killua's eyes snapped shut, annoyance coursing through his body causing him to feel electrifyingly hot. He sat up from the spot, turning his head slightly to see where the voice came from. A little mousy girl, with glasses too small for her face, played nervously with the hemline of her skirt.

She turned a pale shade of pink at their eye contact before looking down, not expecting the intensity of the blue irises that gazed back at her.

"You…erhm…you looked dead, lying there. I was worried when I didn't see you blinking."

Killua snorted an internal laugh, shaking his head at the intrusion of his privacy. He had come outside in the back lawn of his school during lunchtime to escape to his thoughts, and her presence only brought him forcefully back to reality.

"If you thought I was dead, then you should have let me rest in peace." He jumped up on his heels, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. His body leaned to the side due to the extra weight as he brushed past the girl. She followed his movements with her eyes, slightly frowning at his choice of words. Killua sighed, knowing that he had probably touched a nerve inside of the girl, but this was _his_ time to gather the tornado of thoughts that clouded his brain. And he liked to do that completely alone.

* * *

The hallways inside of Yorkshin High were like that of a kindergarten classroom. There were various colors sprawled throughout the walls, with posters encouraging creativity and personal growth scattered about. Most of the students groaned at the grotesque ensemble, but Killua would find himself staring at the purple, yellow and green stripes that lined the walls, almost as if they were taking him on a journey somewhere. It was something so small that he felt set him apart from the other students, and yet it only added to the increasing distance that he created for himself. While he had only attended Yorkshin for a month now, he was increasingly finding that _nobody_ seemed to get him. And trying to converse with his pupils in his last year seemed rather pointless. The feeling wasn't one sided, however. Killua could swallow the rejection that the others served him daily. They made no interest in trying to make him one of theirs, and he was okay with the scenario.

Even so, this new population that he found himself apart of _intrigued_ him. The girls wore their skirts too short, and the guys tried to show off their bravado with shirts that accented their muscles. It was different from the blue blazers and khakis at his old charter school, and that difference motivated him to return every day.

He aimlessly walked to class, one hand stuffed in his pocket fingering around with the marble ball embedded within. The smooth, cool texture of the object relaxed him, giving him some sort of familiarity in the unfamiliar place. He jetted past the typical conversations of teenagers, mentally mocking how they had nothing better to talk about.

"Oh my God, this is perfect!"

Killua looked up at the enthusiastic voice across the hall. The voice was able to transcend over the others, knocking on the door to Killua's eardrum. He glanced over at the owner of the voice; a tall teen with glowing bronze skin who was running his fingers through his emerald black hair. The teen appeared to be trying to stifle the full force of his excitement, but his eyes pressed together tightly, betraying his attempt. Killua couldn't help but to be curious as to what had made the boy so excited in a place like _this_.

"I can't believe you actually got your hands on this, Zushi!" He was now skimming through a book, his thick lashes finally parting from their kiss. "There were only one hundred copies made!"

A smaller, stocky boy with thick eyebrows rubbed the back of his forehead, his brown eyes glimmering with satisfaction of his gift. "Yeah, my mom actually got to go to a signing last week, and picked up a copy. She brought it home to me, but I know you would appreciate a Wing original photo book than I would. Read the inside of the cover!"

The tanned boy impatiently darted through the pages, stopping and skimming over choice words. It didn't seem possible, but his plastered grin stretched out even further, to where Killua thought he would break his face. The teen threw his arms around his unsuspecting friend, thanking him loudly in the process.

 _All of that commotion over a book?_ Killua was expecting something monumental and groundbreaking, but the teen looked like he could die happily in the hallway. Killua turned his attention back to his destination, perplexed at the encounter he just witnessed.

He couldn't fight the small smirk that betrayed his confusion, however. This boy seemed so delighted at the gift, a gesture that Killua was not used to in this public space. The scene was a splash of color, in an otherwise grey prison.

* * *

Taking Art Studies was definitely not something Killua was expecting to have to enjoy.

His parents allowed him to transfer to a public school in his last year, more so at the pleading to his father than his overbearing mother, and they would withdraw their kindness had they known they he was using _this_ as an extracurricular. They drilled in him to fill his extra time slots with political science or joining the debate team, but the moment Killua witnessed the teacher carelessly sloshing paint onto a canvas, the freedom called his name.

It was mainly the activity that he looked forward to. In this space, he could completely be himself with no judgment or restrictions. That was how the teacher, Bisky, needed it to be. She drilled into her students, "You cannot create art if you are stifled!" and as so her classroom was a utopia of fresh air. She played the oddest music through her iPod, selections ranging from worldly music to _Sounds of the Rainforest_ , but Killua had to admit it did help to loosen them up. Bisky was a strange individual herself. She always dressed in hand me down thrift clothes, almost as if she were a modern day hippie. If she could help it, she walked around barefoot. Her eccentricity gave Killua the theory that she was solely responsible for the decorative hallways.

He walked in and dropped his backpack on the table in front of him. As always, he was one of the first in the class to arrive, and he took the opportunity to glance out the window, hoping to make up for the interruption during his lunch leisure time. The clouds were angry now, with heavy droplets of rain pounding against the window. Killua closed his eyes and inhaled, hoping to smell the warmth of the rain from inside the school.

The students were piling in to the room now, quiet as most of them were serious art students who treated the class as if it were a college course. They were in their last year as he was, and were planning on using their artwork for their college portfolio. Killua envied them, being able to find something that they loved and make it a goal to pursue it for life.

An unfamiliar student walked in, his tan glow contrasting the haze of the outside. Killua raised an eyebrow at the intrusion, mentally noting that he didn't belong here. The teen shot honey warm eyes at Killua, smiling at him as if they were long friends. _It's probably because I keep staring at him._ Killua shook off the sincerity of his gaze, pressing his lips together in a feeble attempt at a smile back. The teen looked unfazed, as he took the empty seat next to Killua.

Bisky hopped on the stool in the front of the class as the bell rang, wildly swinging one leg over the other. She cupped her hands over one knee, and beamed at the students in front of her. "Well, well guys. You've all made such progress this past month in your character studies, and now I think a project is in order."

Killua rested his head on his palm, playing with the white strands that danced on his cheekbone. He was slightly disappointed that they would have to do a _project_ , which meant rules and restrictions: the opposite of what art was supposed to do for him. He tried to ignore the pestering tan skin that resided next to him, drawing his attention like moth to a flame. He placed the string from his hoodie into his mouth, chewing on it as a distraction.

"As you are all aware, I do not assign seats in my classroom. I want everyone to be comfortable in this environment. But I've noticed that every day, you all take the same seats. So it got me to thinking, you all must feel _something_ about where you sit that is a reflection of you. I find it very interesting, and I want to see if your peers do too." She hopped down off of the stool, grabbing a turned over canvas behind her. She turned it around to the students, gaining their approval through several _oohs_ and _aaaahs._

"I painted this during my senior year at University. My roommate at the time was falling in love, and I wanted to capture what she looked like at the time. It was my own way of saying, ' _hey, man, I see you for what you are.'_ I kept it at her insistence, but I always show it to my students during this type of project." Killua marveled at the painting in its entirety. The portrait was of a young woman, bashfully looking at the audience with her hair dancing about in front of her face. Her hand was slightly touching her bottom lip, and the other was tucking hair strands behind her ears. Her skin was multicolored, with reds, oranges, yellows and pinks intertwining to create lights and shadows. Her hair was stroked with browns and reds, and each strand seemed so free, as if the brush never wanted to leave the canvas. The multi colors throughout the painting were random and yet told a story of a woman in the early stages of love. Killua was taken aback at the honesty that Bisky was able to portray through oil colors and brushes. _I hope I can tell a story like that, someday._ He instantly frowned at the unattainable thought.

Bisky looked at the painting lovingly before putting it back down. "It's one of my favorites," she stated proudly, "and it was so fun to create. I want you to see how others see you, and since you all keep picking the same seats, I want you to paint the person sitting next to you. That person may be the one that you learn the most about during the course of the year, and it's possible that their vibe makes you continue to sit at your table. So you can choose, inside or outside of class, to paint them at the most beautiful emotion. Whether it be sadness, love, happiness, or anger, I want you to paint their true soul. And I won't be grading it; your subject will. This will allow all of you to learn something about yourself and others. I will give you all to the end of the semester to paint it, but I want you to spend the class hours having conversations and sketching out the energy of those conversations. Believe me, you can't paint a person's soul unless you actually _know_ what makes them beautiful." She took a seat back on the stool and raised her palms in the air. "Begin!"

Killua turned towards the bronze teen, who was still smiling warmly at him. He extended his hand towards Killua, who merely stared at it. "I'm Gon!"

Killua reluctantly took his hand in his, gaze stuck on the contrast of pale and bronze flesh, before mumbling, "Killua."

"You're new here, right? I haven't really seen you around before."

Killua nodded his head, removing his hand and placing it back in his pocket. "Yeah, I just transferred this year."

"Are you a senior?"

"Yeah."

Gon laughed lightheartedly at this revelation. "Boy, you have a lot of guts to transfer to a new school when you're almost done. Do you like it here?"

Killua shrugged his shoulders in response. " 'S not so bad. Everyone is kind of snotty, though."

Gon waved his hand towards Killua, his smile permanently etched on his face. "Yeah they can be like that, but don't let them get to you. They're not _that_ bad when you get to know them, but I only hang around my friend Zushi."

"Was that who made you really happy back in the hallway?"

Red surfaced to Gon's cheeks, reminding Killua of the painting that they had just seen. "Oh, you heard that? Sorry, I've been told that I can be overly dramatic."

"Hmm. You don't say."

"Well, it was only because," he fumbled through his sack, a sack that Killua admired for it's native stitching, and pulled out the book from earlier. "Zushi gave me new book of photography! It's by my favorite photographer, Wing, and it's pretty exclusive and pretty expensive. I usually have to look at them from the library."

"So you're into that sort of thing, photography?"

Gon beamed at Kilua's words. "Very much! I love to take photos and capture the true essence of the moment. Kind of like what Bisky was saying earlier. I actually just signed up for this art class because I read an interview with him saying that painting helped give him a perspective on taking photos. Figured I'd give it a shot, so I switched over extracurriculars. Wing does a phenomenal job of making you _feel_ something. Take a look." Gon flipped to the middle of the book, with a black and white photo of a woman. She was on a bed pressed against the wall with a thin sheet draped over her body. Her brown unruly hair swam over her arms as she rest her head on top her hands on the bedrail. Her eyes looked sad, and Killua could tell that she was on the verge of crying. The title of the photograph was _Good Morning, Sunshine._ Killua raised an eyebrow.

"That's contradicting to have that name for this sad picture. I don't get it."

"Don't you see," Gon brushed his finger over the picture, his eyes engulfed in the scene, "She's not sad, she's _happy_."

Killua blinked his eyes again, trying to see whatever Gon was explaining. "Nope, don't see it."

"She's happy because she was so lonely for so long, and then she met the love of her life. She went to sleep and had a nightmare that she was still alone, and when she woke up she realized that she wasn't. She's crying because she realized what it's like to _not_ be lonely."

A small ripple went through Killua's heart. He choked down his reaction to Gon's words, not wanting to give away too much. _What it's like to not be lonely? What does that feel like?_ "You see all of that," he breathed, "from a simple photo?"

"That's the only way I can see it. Wing doesn't tell you what it is and what it isn't, he just wants you to _feel_ your truth. And I believe they're happy tears." He closed the book and smiled at Killua warmly again, his expression swirling through like brush strokes on a canvas. Killua had to look away to make sure it was still raining outside.

Because inside of this classroom, the sun was shining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm finishing up my other story, Vagabonds (which if you haven't read, please give it a look see. Starring Hisoka and OC), and I got the idea for this one. I've always wanted to write a KilluGon fic.
> 
> Moreso doing this for experimentation purposes, so let me know what you guys think!
> 
> This story here has been on my soul for a bit, and I wanted to wait until after Vagabonds ended, but I was a little impatient.
> 
> You guys rock
> 
> -Bitchii-usa


	2. Two: Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING, COMMENTING AND ALL OF THE JAZZ ON THIS STORY. I'M IN LOVE WITH IT. I DEFINITELY ENCOURAGE ANY FEEDBACK FROM YOU ALL, GOOD OR BAD!
> 
> ALSO I CHANGED THE TITLE, AS THE LAST ONE JUST WASN'T WORKING FOR ME. I LIKE THIS ONE A WHOLE LOT MORE.
> 
> TILL NEXT TIME
> 
> -BITCHII-USA

_**Two** _

_**Home** _

The air inside the Zoldyk mansion was always thick with tension. Plastered smiles on the family members' faces tried to perpetrate otherwise, but there was no denying the stench of darkness. Killua was discovering more and more that he hated coming home, the tension cutting off his breaths the moment he opened the door. His mother, Kikyo Zoldyk, played jazz and classical music daily to create an atmosphere of comfort, but Killua knew that she was trying to mask the hateful atmosphere.

He made a direct march to his bedroom, avoiding all contact with his butlers as they approached and offered to take his belongings. He needed to rest before having to sit through another family dinner with false smiles and pretend conversations. He plopped down on his mattress, letting himself sink in until he thought he would dissolve through the floors. He stared at his ceiling, eyes partially closed, humming along to the saxophone that intruded in the crack of his bedroom door. His mother, although he would never admit it, had impeccable taste in music.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, temporarily stopping his concert. It was an odd sensation, considering that the only ones who ever called or texted him were his his immediate family. And when he was home, his phone was pretty much nonexistent.

He entered in his unlock code, thumb lazily sliding across the glass, and discovered an unknown number had texted him.

- _Hey Killua!_

Killua raised an eyebrow at the unknown contact, memory slightly recalling that he had recently given his number out.

- _Who is this?_

Killua stared at the green and blue bubbles on the screen, anticipating the answer that he had already known. It was as if time had suddenly slowed down as ran his tongue across his teeth, waiting to see who it was. Killua sighed, mentally reprimanding himself for worrying about it in the first place.

- _It's Gon!_

Killua sucked in a breath of air at the name on his screen. Of course it was Gon, but a part of him wanted to see confirmation, as if anyone who wasn't blood related would bother to contact him.

_-Figured as such. Sup?_

_-Nothing much. Free tomorrow. Want to grab lunch and talk for the project?_

Killua read the last line over and over, heat rising in his stomach. He tried to recall the last time that he was invited-let alone went out- with anyone who wasn't conducting business for his family. He scrambled his brain trying to find an answer, not completely sure how to handle the situation.

_-I have lots of homework to do._

_-On a Saturday?_

Right. Killua was in public school now, which meant that weekends were used for relaxing and preparing for another dueling week of chalk smells and bad cafeteria food, and less for strenuous school work. Would it be so bad to have a meal with someone outside of his family? Especially if it involved school…

"Killua!"

His mother's voice jolted him upright as If she had jammed his finger into an electrical socket. Kikyo had that effect on all of her children, giving them slight pained anxiety at her beckoning. They were all aware would could happen to them if they didn't fit the mold of her perfect life.

"Killua, it's dinner time!"

Killua sighed, staring at his phone again, fingers aimlessly typing another excuse to throw Gon off. His thumb hovered over the send, before deleting the entry and tossing his phone to the side. It shouldn't be this difficult to have _real_ fun outside of campaign trails and political dinners, yet Killua sucked down the pang of anxiety that swirled around his throat. He could think of a valid excuse later.

* * *

There was little left to the imagination when it came to nightly dinners.

Kikyo wasted no time working her butlers to their exhaustion, demanding pristine silverware and dishes with names that were hard to pronounce. Half of the time, Killua couldn't tell the difference between the duck and the vegetables, but he would scarf it down with farce satisfaction none the less.

He plopped down in his seat heavily, prompting a swift scolding from Kikyo, before straightening his back in his chair. He wondered what other teenagers his age ate with their families for dinner, imagining warm lighting and greasy food and relaxing atmosphere. Basically everything that his home was _not_.

A silver ladle brought him back to reality, his brother Milluki elbowing his side to get his attention. Killua cut his eyes at him with Milluki returning the stare down. Kikyo imposed a strict rule of no one eating until everyone had food on their plates, and Milluki wasn't the type who could wait patiently for a meal. Killua placed the bare minimum on his plate, hoping to get through this meal rather quickly.

"So," Kikyo pursed her lips, pouring sauce on top of her duck, "how was your day today, Killua?"

He knew that she wasn't genuinely asking for the concern of a mother, rather she was hoping that he would tell her it was terrible so she could send him back to charter school. He stuffed a piece of meat in his mouth, his teeth violently shredding it apart. He shrugged his shoulders before swallowing.

"It was good. Nothing too much to talk about."

"Really?" she placed her chin on the back of one of her hands and squinted her eyes in his direction, "all of the _begging_ and _debating_ you did, and you don't have anything to say?"

He let his eyes fall to the table, unable to mask the scowl that emerged on his face. "There's nothing much going on right now, Mother. It is the start of the school year, after all."

"Hmm."

His father, Silva, cleared his throat, momentarily breaking away from Kikyo's mischievous plan. "Have you looked into the debate team like we discussed, son?"

Killua shook his head, stuffing another piece of meat through his lips. He hoped the more food he had in his mouth, the less he had to talk. It seemed like the attention was always on him and his activities, despite being the middle child.

"Father," Killua oldest brother, Illumi, spoke for the first time since arriving at the table, his voice whimsy and comical, "do you really think it was best to let Killua move to public school in his last year? His old charter program would have given him more training for when he joins your political group next term. I don't believe public school would suffice as adequate education."

Killua's eyes darkened, his blue irises swimming with hatred at his brother. Illumi looked at Killua and smiled, his head tilted to the side. "I only want what's best for you, Kil."

Killua swallowed his half eaten duck in his mouth to avoid his retaliation. _You are the last person to try to help me, Illumi. I wish you weren't even here._

"I believe," Silva wiped his mouth with a napkin, "that Killua should experience a little bit of freedom before devoting his life to the family. It may help him connect with the people later on. Every vote counts, always remember that, Killua." He pointed the end of his fork at Killua before jamming it into the string beans perfectly formed on his plate.

"The keyword here is _little_ freedom," Kikyo needed to have the last word, her status of matriarch was one that she treated like the government position she held, "so don't think you can overdo it. There's not much you need to invest your time in at public school."

"I agree, Mother." Illumi looked blankly at Killua, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. "Overdoing it could become dangerous for our little politician."

Killua wanted to vomit in Illumi's lap. His brother, he discovered daily, was completely insane. He couldn't stop himself before the words poured out of his mouth.

"You mean, overdo it like _you_ did, Illumi?"

The dinner table fell in silence, all five occupants' eyes darting in Killua's direction. If it were possible, Killua could see the black cloud of anger that swirled around Illumi's body. He heaved slow deep breaths, trying to contain his urge to reach across the table and grab his little brother by the throat.

"Mother," the youngest sibling, Kalluto, grabbed Kikyo's sleeve, tugging it downward. "What does Killua mean?"

"Nothing, dear," Kikyo forced the words out of her clenched teeth, her eyes cutting daggers into Killua's cheek, "your brother is just being silly."

"Killua," Silva's words came out like hardened bricks, and he had to swallow their intensity so as not to crack the porcelain foundation that his wife had successfully built. "You will not speak to your brother in such a manner."

Killua darted his eye back and forth between his parents and Illumi before taking a deep breath and dismissing himself from the table.

"I have homework to do, so I'm retiring to my room for the evening."

"Killua!" Kikyo slammed her palm into the table with such force that it caused the silverware to create soft music. "Dinner is not over with, so come back here!"

Silva shook his head in her direction, silently telling her to let him go. Kikyo cleared her throat, her anger rising out of her like a phoenix.

Killua stomped into his room and slammed the door, trying to choke back the hot tears that were uninvitingly streaming down his face. How much longer, he wondered, would he have to keep up this façade for Illumi's sake?

He looked over at his forgotten phone, a text message illuminating the screen.

_-?_

He took shallow breaths before furiously typing away at his keypad. As usual, a night alone with his family could push him to do things off of pure adrenaline. He pressed send before the anxious voices in his head produced any more excuses.

_-Sorry. Got sidetracked. Tmrrw at noon. You pick the place._

* * *

Gon, as Killua discovered, had a very unique spirit.

As instructed, Killua met up with the bronzed teen at a park in downtown Yorkshin. Killua had to pretty much sneak out, telling his butlers he was going to the library as he breezed through the door. _That should buy me some time, at the very least, to eat and chat. I'll be back before Mother has a hemorrhoid._

Killua had to take public transportation via the train, an oddity that was almost never used by the Zoldyk Family. He mainly relied on his butlers to transport him everywhere, including going to school. At his insistence, he would have them drop him off several blocks from the building and walk the rest of the way.

It was quite an experience, much to his delight. The outside world where people didn't adorn themselves in fancy suits that cost a mortgage or speak with sickening eloquence that was beautifully crafted. Aboard the train, he couldn't stop himself from sketching out the vivacious scenery. A mother coddled her infant close to her bosom, humming a soft melody near the baby's face. Occasionally, she would kiss the top of the tiny human's forehead, pink rushing to her cheeks with pure, honest love. Killua concentrated on that part mainly, using a colored pencil to accent the different colors of warmth. Soon, he had made a mess of colored pencils scattering the empty seat next to him, the attention to detail itching through his fingers. He hadn't meant to stare so long, but Gon and Bisky's words of capturing the moment resonated in his heart. The tendrils of her hair were swimming through the paper, swirling around her face framing its perfection. The woman looked at Killua and smiled warmly, waving a hand in his direction. Killua felt a mild heat rise to his cheeks, and he glanced back down at the sketch book in his lap. She got off at the next stop, but not before stopping by Killua's seat.

"My husband," she gushed, "is a sculptor. I know the look of an artist's concentration. I hope we were good subjects for you."

Killua nodded his head, swallowing down whatever unprepared response that would trickle out of his mouth. Luckily for him, to his satisfaction, the woman disappeared no sooner than after she had made her observation.

The cool, almost-Autumn breeze whipped through Killua's hair, causing silver strands to playfully graze his cheeks. It tickled, to his amusement, but to avoid looking like a complete maniac, he suppressed his laughter. He approached the park where Gon suggested they meet, spotting him kneeling down on the ground. Gon was carefully trying to capture two birds that were sharing bread near a bench close by, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

"Yo!" Killua edged closely, careful not to startle Gon from his art.

"Hi, Killua!" Gon did not take his face away from his camera, his finger mashing the button on top several times. "We can go in a bit, I promise. This was just too goo d to pass up."

Killua moved to his right, looking at the birds on the ground. They didn't look all that spectacular, just two birds squabbling over the last piece over their meal. But Gon looked enthused, his tongue wetting his bottom lip.

"What do you see when you look at them?"

"Huh?"

"The birds," Killua pointed in their direction, "what made you want to capture the moment?"

Gon finally broke away from his lens, his eyes watery with excitement. His eyes softened to a glowing euphoria, a pleasurable breath surfacing within his chest.

"They," he said softly, "looked very much _alive_. I don't know how to describe it, but the way they were eating and being in each other's spaces made them look like they had never lived before. I don't know, I guess I'm weird."

 _Quite the opposite_ , Killua mentally commentated, _you have a way of making others feel without trying. Or, you have that effect on me, anyways._

Killua laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess you are Gon. It's cool, though. At least you're interesting."

Gon seemed satisfied with Killua's response, snapping one final photo before gesturing the silver haired teen to follow behind him. "Did you find the park okay? I know you're new to the area."

"Yeah, it was pretty easy. I took the train and the stop wasn't too far from here."

Gon nodded. "The train is pretty cool. I always get some good pictures when I ride it." He tapped the top of his camera a few times. "I'm never disappointed."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I even sket-" Killua ceased his sentence, afraid that he was getting too personal with Gon.

"You even _what_?" Gon playfully asked him, turning his head so that honey infused with blue. "You can't just stop in the middle of a sentence like that, you know."

"It's nothing," Killua waved off, "just some dumb drawing I did."

Gon turned around, walking backwards skillfully as if he was a circus performer. "Can I see?!"

Killua found it hard to turn down such a beaming face, but letting Gon see his art work was like opening up his head and asking him to poke around. There was just some things, that others didn't need to see.

"Maybe later," Killua closed his eyes so that he didn't have to face his disappointment, "I'm starving."

"Yeah, I guess we should get going," Gon turned back around and pouted. He was genuinely excited to see what Killua was capable of artistically. Something told him that Killua had remarkable skills. "I chose this café around the corner from here. They have really good coffee and some of the best spaghetti you'll ever have!"

"Spaghetti?" Killua mocked, lips salivating at the suggestion. He had only had the dish once, on accident due to one of his butler's decision to share his culture with the Zoldyks. Kikyo immediately had him terminated, insisting that spaghetti was a food that was eaten by commoners. Killua was thoroughly disappointed, his mouth still remembering the rich sauce accompanied by meat that swam over his tongue.

"Yeah, I have it like once a week. My aunt always yells at me for not eating home cooked meals, but I can't help it, it's so good!" Killua didn't need Gon to turn around to see that he was once again beaming a golden haze.

Sort of like the celestial sphere that was touching the back of his neck.

* * *

Gon didn't lie, this spaghetti was delicious.

Killua almost forgot to mind his manners as he shoved spoonfuls of the pasta in between his cheeks. Gon chuckled as red sauce drizzled down Killua's chin. Blue eyes looked at him with the innocence of a child.

"What's so funny?" Killua asked through mouthfuls of noodles and sauce.

"You have something right there," Gon pointed to the corner of Killua's mouth. Killua made a feeble attempt to remove it with his napkin, but more sauce lingered behind.

"Here," Gon picked up a napkin, reaching across the table, "I got it."

Killua remained frozen as Gon's skin made contact with his own. Gon's tongue wiggled out of the corner of his mouth again, his apparent act of concentration, as he set out to clean Killua's mouth. Killua moved back a bit when he felt the contact was too long.

"Thanks," he murmured, "you must be the nurturing type."

Gon shrugged his shoulders, returning to his original position. "I don't know, I guess I just pick up habits from my Aunt and Grandmother. Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable." Gon bashfully laughed, another time where he had been called out for not understanding boundaries.

"'S okay. It's just….I don't know…a little strange is all."

Gon raised his hands in defeat, an apologetic smile plastering his face. "Sorry again, it just happens when you hang around me. Feel free to put me in my place, Killua."

Killua nodded, taking smaller bites of his spaghetti. It wasn't as if Gon had offended him, but the close proximity was an unfamiliar territory in his world. His natural instincts took over, as a bricked wall was layered between the two.

"Actually," Gon reached around and grabbed a small sketchbook from his sack, "this is the perfect time to get a sketch out." Without confirmation from Killua, he furiously drew away at the paper, crinkling the corners with his heavy hands. Killua found himself interested in whatever it was Gon was scribbling, curious as to how Gon saw him in that specific moment.

It seemed as if hours passed before Gon lifted his sketch book in the air and beamed. "All finished! Do you want to see, Killua?"

 _Of course I want to see, idiot._ "Sure, I guess."

Gon withdrew the book, placing it close to his chest and giving Killua a sly smile. "Then you first."

Killua gulped down his water to avoid the subject that he had hoped Gon forgot about. "Hmmm?"

"You heard me. I want to see what you drew on the train."

"That's not fair, Gon."

"How so?"

"Because," Killua sat back in his chair annoyed, "one is for school and the other is for sport."

"Well," Gon narrowed his eyes to a squint and slowly pushed the book back towards his sack, "I guess you don't want to see it then."

Killua breathed heavily before sucking air through his teeth. He cursed under his breath before retrieving his book from his book bag. He tossed it over to Gon before reaching out to take his.

Gon smiled brightly as he handed over his sketchbook, shuffling through the pages of Killua's. Both of their eyes widened at the other's discovery.

"Killua," Gon said awestruck, running his fingers over the paper, "this is amazing." The drawing of the woman on the train was done in a purple colored pencil, with wisps of brown framing her face in an implied blanket. A blue bundle was pressed against her cheek, her eyes closed with pink shading her face. Gon could hear the song that she was humming, a yellow light illuminating their bodies, the wisps coming to a soft end that blended in with the white page. "This is magical. It comes alive off of the paper. Seriously, it's like I can feel this woman's warmth radiating on my skin."

Killua blushed, but was too caught up in his own findings to properly reply. "Yeah," he mustered out, "I could say the same." Gon had shaded the page entirely with the lead of his pencil, using the eraser to shape out Killua. His eyes showed the same innocence that he portrayed earlier, a red colored pencil drizzling down his chin. Killua, according to Gon, looked unrecognizable in this portrayal.

He looked _happy_.

"This is a creative technique," Killua wanted to run his fingers over the page, but he didn't want to smudge the art, "I would have never thought to do this. It's incredible, it looks like a photo."

Gon closed his eyes, flashing a radiating smile. "Thank you! I like to practice here and there. I want to become as good as Wing, and he says that creating life in art is always important. I try to use that wherever I go."

"You succeeded," Killua awed, not lifting his eyes from the paper. "It seems like it took you hours to-" _Hours! Fuck!_

Gon's smile dissipated, he looked at Killua with confusion. "What's the matter, Killua?"

"I…um….I have to go." He gave Gon's sketchbook back to him and motioned for his own.

"Already?" Gon looked down at the watch on his wrist. "It's only five o'clock. I know it gets darker earlier than normal, but the sun is still out for the time being."

"It's rough to explain, I just have stuff I have to do. Sorry to jet on you like this."

Gon looked down at his half eaten plate of spaghetti and nodded. "I understand. You should at least take it to go," he motioned for the waiter over to the table, "it's too good to pass up."

Killua reached down in his pockets and fumbled for change. "How much for my half?"

Gon's smiled returned as if it had never left, his hand cutting off Killua's question. "No need. This is my treat, Zushi doesn't like pasta and I've been dying for someone to try it."

"Thanks," Killua turned his head to stop the blush in his cheeks, "but you don't have to."

"I know I don't _have_ to, but I want to. You can pay for next time."

 _Next time_? Killua whipped his head around, silver hair tangling into his eyes. He hadn't considered the possibility that there would be another time he would leave the house other than school. Gon, however, had already set it in stone.

"You look surprised," Gon laughed, his baritone rumbling the pit of Killua's stomach, "I know we just met about a month ago, but you seem like an alright guy." Gon reached around and played with the spikes of emerald black hair on the back of his head. "I don't know, I guess I thought that we could be friends."

Killua's eyes widened with emotion. _Friends? Do I….have a friend? Is it that easy?_ Charter school was not the place Killua could make friends. The majority of the students were the sons and daughters of politicians, and just like their parents, they were always competing with each other. Killua lacked their passion, and therefore never found himself fitting in. He reached down and grabbed his backpack, not wanting to look at Gon in case the dam of emotion inside of him might break.

"I can't promise you that I'd be great at it. Friends, I mean."

Gon waved off Killua, his eyes never parting from each other. "Friendship isn't a skill, Killua. It's just something that comes natural to people. You're already doing it, and I think you're doing fine."

Killua looked down at his sneakers, a rush of heat circulating in his body. He turned on his heels, grabbing his container of pasta. He raised it in the air towards Gon, signaling his thanks. Gon nodded in return, leaning back on the chair's back legs.

"I'll text you later, Killua. Make it home safe!"

"Thanks, you too."

Killua strode out of the door, moving as fast as his feet would allow him to. He felt like was running from something versus to something, and that thought alone scared him.

_I was always told, that I didn't need friends. I was always told that family is more than enough._

_But I've never felt more at home, than I did in that café._

_With Gon._

* * *

Killua quietly crept in the back door of his home, and much to his relief, no one was home. He sighed gratefully, happy to not have to explain himself to anyone regarding his whereabouts. A note was left at the end table by the front door, probably from Kikyo.

_Killua,_

_Didn't know the library stayed open this late on the weekends._

_Don't bother waiting up for us, we've all gone to a dinner by the beach at Father's bosses mansion._

_They're supposed to be serving your favorite: stuffed crab._

_I'll try to bring you a plate, but I can't make any promises._

_We'll talk about where you've been tomorrow. DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE!_

_-Mother_

_P.S_

_Don't forget to feed it. Gotoh made a ham and cheese sandwich this morning. I'm sure that should suffice._

Killua crumbled the paper in anger, throwing it forcefully at the wall. He watched the paper fall to the floor as his breathing increased in irritation. He wasn't completely off of the hook, but that wasn't what fueled his fire.

_How dare she, refer to her as_ _**it** _ _?!_

He marched to the kitchen and took out pancake mix, eggs and bacon, furiously whipping a breakfast together. Even though it was dinner time, he knew his sister had a fond love for breakfast. He tried to control his aggression, careful not to mess up her meal, and prepared it on a small platter when it was complete. He grabbed ice cold lemonade from the fridge, pouring it into two glasses on the tray. He divided the meals into two plates and carefully carried the tray to the end of the hallway.

Using his feet, he kicked open the red velvet wall which doubled as a secret door. If anyone just came in the home, they would not question the validity of the hallway wall. Killua descended the stairs, coming face to face with another set of locked doors. He fumbled around in his pocket for the keys, careful to not spill the contents of the tray. He reached it and stuck it in the door, stopping and sighing before continuing.

He had to get himself together. He couldn't let her see him be a mess. He knew that he was all she had in this world, and to her he was as important as a superhero.

He breathed, swallowing the tears that crept to the back of his throat.

Of all the things that he hated about the Zoldyk home, this was the one thing that he hated the _most_.

* * *

 


	3. Three: Gon

_**Three** _

_**Gon** _

There was something soothing about Sunday mornings on Gon's back porch.

Black birds swirled above, speaking in a language that was foreign to him, and yet Gon smiled as he assumed the nature of their conversation. He covered the sun's beam from his eyes, head tilted back to observe them in their pure nature. A soft breeze chilled the back of his neck, and he shuddered at the first signs of autumn's arrival.

The birds cawed and flew before leaving their meeting spot. Gon frowned, wondering if he was the cause of their scattered disruption. He sipped on the hot tea that his aunt had provided for him only moments before. The soothing liquid spilled down his throat, heading straight for the empty stomach that had not been fed yet. Gon took a deep breath in, letting the aroma and steam relax his nerves as he studied powder blue sky that had been recently kissed by the sun.

 _I wonder_ , he scratched the surface of his chin, _if Killua wants to hang out again today?_

Gon was beginning to assume that meeting Killua two weeks prior was no accident. Throughout his years at Yorkshin High, he had only been known as the bubbly bright boy, who made everyone smile no matter their social status. Zushi was the only friend that he had managed to let in, and sometimes Gon wondered how far he would string him along until Zushi drowned in the puddle of _Gon_.

It had been exhausting, trying to remain positive for everyone else's benefit. Even going through the typical adolescent puberty was a chore that he placed on the back burner, always reminding his self that someone else out there had it worse than him. So every morning was started with a bathroom mirror motivational speech and reminders that he mattered, but that did not mean that he had to burden others with his problems.

It was a daily routine: go to school, talk to students, make them smile, swallow his feelings, don't stare too hard in distant spaces, make sure to smile, be a shoulder to lean on, go to the bathroom if it gets too rough. It was a clockwork activity and he had not managed to budge from his disposition.

And then along came Killua. He didn't seem to _need_ Gon, as others so frequently did, and Gon found the atmosphere a relief. Killua's blue irises were always intense, sharing stories with Gon even when his lips were pressed together tightly. Perhaps it was too soon to consider Killua a friend, but how long does one need to determine a bond?

Gon sighed, fear setting in that he would push Killua away if he came on too strong. But there was something about the silver haired, lanky teen that Gon couldn't help but to want to be around. In a world of sun and rainbows and glitter, Killua was a welcomed rainfall in a blazing desert heat. Gon wondered if he was depressed as he found himself more drawn to Killua's sadness.

He smiled through the thought, instinctively blocking out the negative thoughts that tried to intrude his brain. _I think, although I'm still not sure, that he wants to be my friend just as much as I want to be his._

Gon placed his hands on his lap, anxiety causing his fingers to fumble with his green satin shorts. It hadn't been this way with Zushi; the teen practically gravitated towards Gon's radiance due to his own loneliness. Not that Gon minded, Zushi was an amazing friend and Gon could always count on him for fun times and an equal balance. But Gon never felt a _strong_ connection with Zushi; days could run into marathons of each other and he would never become sick with missing his friend.

Killua, on the other hand, became something Gon found himself fixated on, from the moment they opened their mouths in Art Studies. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering if he was just _using_ Killua and excusing their friendship as a temporary fill in for his real problem.

_It's just that, you remind me so much of him, Killua._

* * *

Mito hated when Gon painted her freshly cleaned kitchen with dirtied palms.

No matter how many times she scolded, Gon would dirty up dishes with the ink from his charcoal pictures. She could never find herself too upset with him, at least he had found a distraction from the sadness, but she wondered how in his eighteen years of life he had never seemed to break the habit.

"Gon," she pressed her lips together in an attempt to show stern demeanor, "what will you do with yourself next year?"

Gon stuffed a wildberry muffin in his mouth, cheeks puffing out like the fish that swam in the aquarium they frequented. "What do you mean?" He carefully parted his lips, trying not to let the crumbs fly in various places.

Mito sighed, turning around and handing him a napkin. "I mean, you're pretty much an adult now. I won't be around next year with you at college, and I worry that you won't be able to take care of yourself properly."

Gon swallowed the thick breading in his mouth, grunting in satisfaction at the delightful taste. "You don't need to worry about me, Aunt Mito. You have to trust yourself that you raised me right. Although, I will miss your homemade muffins; I don't think anything compares."

"Oh?" she turned her head around, simultaneously stirring the dumpling soup in front of her. "Not even that café spaghetti that you like so much? I saw the container of leftovers in the fridge. Honestly, Gon, you don't know what they put in that stuff."

"Oh I'm sure lizards and toads are a part of their recipe," he walked over to the stove, taking a deep whiff of the soup concoction, "you worry too much, you know."

Mito looked down, eyes dulling into dark shades of oranges and browns. "Can you blame me, Gon? You're all I have, and I don't want to mess up with you like I did-" She stopped herself, becoming aware with where the conversation was headed. She swallowed the after words, afraid to look at Gon for his reaction. "I'm sorry," she murmured somberly, "I shouldn't bring that up."

Gon forced a smile on his face, knowing well that the topic hurt her just as much as it hurt him. He placed a palm on her shoulder, gripping it gently before releasing his muscles. "It's okay, Aunt Mito. I'm over it, like you said, I'm pretty much an adult now. It was so long ago."

Mito turned her head, orange-ish, yellow eyes staring into the depths of his soul. Gon coughed and removed his hand, knowing that Mito was seeing through the wall he had so carefully constructed. She couldn't find the words to say to him, but Gon heard her message loud and clear.

_You never get over something like that, Gon._

She turned back to her soup, leaving Gon to drop the disguised grin that split his face. He turned to head to his room, his stomach swirling with emotions that he wished he could throw up. "Call me when dinner is done, I'm going to study."

* * *

It was never okay, and it was never going to be okay.

Gon knew it, Mito knew it, but both of them were afraid of the cyclone of events that would happen if they allowed those feelings to spill over.

So instead they immersed themselves in various activities. Mito tried to be the best role model in Gon's life, focusing on the meticulous cleaning rituals, and Gon was transfixed on the art of others. If he couldn't paint the true him, the true darkness that lingered in his heart, he would capture others true nature. A tortured artist, of sorts.

He lay back on his bed, eyes focused on the ceiling as the sun was beginning to set for the evening. He wondered what Zushi was doing right now; his mother and father were probably setting the dinner table, the three of them in smiles and giggles over his bright future. He smiled, happy that someone as genuine as Zushi could experience a loving home.

Gon reprimanded himself the moment he thought those words. It was a slap in the face for Mito, who had given her life up to make sure he had never wanted for anything, even down to the simplest version of love. It was internal battle for him, caught between gratefulness and spite.

He pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts. His phone was littered with names and icons, but most of them were there because it was the _nice_ thing to do. Neither party had bothered to actually contact each other, but it was courtesy to say, "Yeah, I'll call you sometime!" Gon knew that at the end of the day, he would remain in the acres of land that he and his aunt shared. It was how it had been, and it was how it was going to be.

But things were going to be changing in a little over a year. Gon would be going to college, and starting the life that he saw fit versus the one written for him. He had hoped, all throughout his adolescence, that he would grow as a person and find himself the way others so poetically did.

Yet, he remained as lost and conflicted as his ten year old counterpart.

His digit roamed over Killua's name, hesitant to press the contact under his thumb. He didn't want to scare him away completely, but the gravitational pull that Killua manifested was hard to deny. Somewhere, between the colored lines and the not quite perfect photographs, lay an acceptance between the two that Gon wasn't sure was mutual. He _wanted_ it to be mutual, damnit.

But that was the problem, as Gon discovered many years ago: loving someone too hard can push the ones that he wants away.

He clicked his phone screen shut, locking his arm behind his head. The pinkish orange rays of the sun illuminated the side of his face, creating a portrait of surreal beauty. Gon took a deep breath, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to wander.

No matter how far his mind journeyed, the destination remained the same.

_What was so bad about me, that you didn't want to stay?_

* * *

He had fallen asleep, a note plastered on his door letting him know that the soup was in the microwave.

He sat up, absorbing the moonlight that slivered through his window. He rubbed his eyes, drawing his hand away to discover crust. Reaching down to feel his pillow, he was disappointed to see that it had been wet. _I cried again, I've got to stop doing that._

Gon cracked his door open, careful not to step too hard on the creaky floors and wake Mito. He crept down the stairs, surprise taking over when he realized a light was still on in the den. After fixing himself a bowl of dumpling soup, he walked over to the lit room, forcing back a yawn that threatened to escape his lips.

Mito sat on the couch, a large book in her lap and several more at her feet. She had a warm hazy smile attached to her face, flipping through several pages with the occasional long glance.

"What are you looking at, Aunt Mito?" Mito shook with startle, clutching her chest and laughing faintly at her reaction. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

She smiled warmly in return and pet the spot next to her. "No, don't apologize; I was just caught up in old memories. I'm getting to be a silly old bat."

Gon spooned a good amount of broth in his mouth, letting the flavors play over his tongue before swallowing. "You're not old, Aunt Mito. You could compete with many girls my age in terms of beauty."

"Don't say such things," Mito scolded, but not too sternly, "all women are beautiful in their own way."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Gon scanned over the book that she was fingering through, chuckling upon discovering the photographs. "I had a lot of hair back then."

She giggled, flipping through the pages of more baby Gon photos. "Yes I remember. You were so cute, eyes always full of wonder and adventure. I'm glad that you haven't lost that touch, in spite of everything. I remember when you were so small, and now you're taller than I am. I wish I had a time machine."

"Aunt Mito," Gon placed the bowl in his lap, a serious tone brewing underneath, "will you be okay when I'm gone?"

"Of course not." She didn't hesitate to respond, closing the book and turning to smile at Gon, "But I'll manage. I know you won't be gone forever."

"Never." A simple word full of conviction that resonated within Mito's heart, "I'd never do that to you."

"I know you wouldn't," she reached out and touched his hand, giving it a light squeeze, "I'm sure I'd hunt you down if you ever tried to."

They mildly laughed before Mito turned serious again. "Seriously, Gon, I want you to make a good life for yourself and not get caught up in the past. You can't always be afraid to get close to people; they can be good for you. Zushi is a nice young man, and I know you have been friends for a long time, but promise me that you'll find deep connections that won't break so easily."

"You think Zushi and I will break our bond easily?"

"No," she shook her head defiantly, "like I said, I think he's a nice young man. But I don't see him bringing out the real _you_. Only real connections can do that and it's okay if every friend you meet can't draw that out for you."

Gon frowned, a hazy picture of Killua clouding his mind. "How," he sighed, finding the right words to convey his question, "do you know when a person can do that?"

"I suppose," she drew a finger to her chin, head tilted back in thought, "it will be someone that you don't have to pretend for. You and I both suppress our real emotions, but I know that if need be, we can be vulnerable with each other. When you find someone that makes you not care about seeing you in a darkened frenzy, then you know that person is special to you."

Gon looked down at the mesh carpet, hands gripping the sides of his bowl tight. Being vulnerable was Gon's biggest fear in getting to know someone, and it was one of the reasons he had always gotten just 'close enough with others'. Shallow waters, only sticking your feet in the pool type of bonds that reacted as a defense mechanism. His new found friend made him feel as if they could collaborate on their pain, and Gon _wanted_ to believe that, even if it was a fabrication based on his own desires. Besides, if Gon didn't radiate like the sun, would anyone truly love him?

_I'm afraid that my darkened frenzy will swallow me and anyone I love whole. Why am I once again desperately trying to grab something that isn't even mine?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE KUDOS, READS AND COMMENTS  
> I HOPE YOURE ALL ENJOYING THIS AS MUCH AS I AM!  
> TILL NEXT TIME  
> -BITCHII_USA


	4. Four: Alive

_**Four** _

_**Alive** _

The hatred on Killua's tongue is bitter like cigarette ashes.

He can taste it even when his tongue meets his cheek, it lingers despite his aggressive attempt to swallow it whole.

He's used to the familiarity of it, but he never appreciates the taste itself.

He brushed his teeth, praying the toothpaste would erase whatever traces remain, and came up empty. He hovered over the sink; both palms pressed firmly on each sides of the marble, and raised his head to look in the mirror. He almost can't recognize the person staring back at him; silver hair disheveled and eyes wild with sleep and irritation. Killua didn't know how it had all come to this, and reprimanded himself on why he didn't do anything about it sooner. Maybe it was because, like everyone else in the family, he tried to create a mirage in his mind that everything was tolerable, another day down the hatch. But reality had hit him the day before, causing the emotional teen to question everything in his life and what it meant to him.

Things would be different this time; he would make sure of that.

* * *

_Killua opened the door to the basement, pale yellow light engulfing him whole. It had been a few since he had last been down to visit, blame on his mother for not sleeping at night._

_He tiptoed through the creaky wooden flooring, careful not to completely disturb the occupant. He saw her legs before coming in contact with her face, a light snoring circling the room. It was as beautiful as a symphony to him; he had forgotten the melody that he used as a sleeping aid, and hearing it now caused the tension in his joints to dissipate._

_He sat the tray down in front of the couch that she lay sprawled out on, covering her with the blanket that she kicked to the side. She did not move, and snuggled in tightly at the warmth that draped over her shoulders. Killua stared at her for what seemed like a lifetime, taking in every small curve in her face and the way her mouth pouted as saliva pooled her arm underneath. He smiled warmly; she was his heartbeat in human form._

_He sat on the floor, crossing one leg over the other and leaned back, sighing. Looking around at the dreary basement, he was grateful that it didn't appear to be too much of a prison, and that was saying a lot. A pale blue paint was sloppily painted on the walls, with a floral banner adorned just below the ceiling. A small crate overflowed with stuffed animals, which Killua recognized as just being hand me downs. He made a mental note to visit the toy store when his allowance resurfaced in his bank account._

_A small moan brought his attention back, his sister stirring about on the couch. Her nose traveled down to the scent placed below her, a groggy smile infiltrating her face. "Mmm," she said sleepily, "Gotoh made pancakes."_

_Killua cleared his throat, relieved that he would get the chance to talk to her as she consumed her meal. She whipped her head in his direction, beaming with joy at the sight of familiarity._

_"Big brother!" she all but jumped off of the sofa as she threw herself on top of Killua. She nestled her head under his chin, her arms clutching at his shirt. "I've missed you, big brother!"_

_"I've missed you too, Alluka, " his heart would burst into confetti if she allowed it. He hugged her back, showering her with the love that she had so desperately needed. One that he would never forget to provide._

_She sat back from him, grabbing the tray behind her. "Did you make this, big brother?"_

_Killua nodded. Her voice was honey._

_"Thank you!" Alluka had the prettiest smile Killua could ever recall seeing. Whenever she opened her mouth, he was transported to the places you read about in fairy tale books. She bit into her pancake, syrup falling to her lap. "It's really good! But why did you bring two plates?"_

_"I figured Nanika would be hungry, too."_

_Alluka's eyes softened to an ocean wave, it was one of Killua's favorite sceneries. If Bisky ever demanded that her students show the best art piece they could find, Killua would bring Alluka as a live model._

_"You're so kind, big brother. She says thank you, I know she does." Alluka slowly chewed on the pancake, her eyes falling to the floor in the space between them. "I know she also says that she's sorry for all the pain that she caused."_

_Killua's breath caught on the end of his throat._ How could you even think that any of this is your fault?

_He reached out and touched her hand, rubbing the top with one finger. "Nanika has nothing to apologize for. And you can tell her that or I can."_

_Alluka feigned a smile, but Killua knew that it was solely for his benefit. He didn't know how to console her, make her feel that even if no one else admitted it, she belonged here. She was his family, and he hers, and that was more than enough between the two of them._

_"So I think I made a friend, Alluka," he changed the subject, not wanting to waste the precious time that winded down between them._

_Her eyes returned to their lively state, his favorite smile returning. "Really, big brother? I'm so glad to hear that!"_

_Killua ran his fingers through his hair, stands dangling between his fingers. He shook them loose. "Yeah, his name is Gon. He's pretty nice; I think you'd like him. You two…..remind me of each other, in a way."_

_"So he's really pretty?" Alluka gushed, a sly smile spreading in the corners of her mouth._

_A heat of red rushed to his cheeks. Gon's face was an image that seemed to stay in the back of Killua's mind, but he tossed it into the 'I really don't know what I'm doing here' box. He had become an expert at that. Furthermore, could he call Gon pretty? Was he supposed to spend as much time fixated on the idea as he currently did?_

_"Yeah," a lie sprouted. "You both are really pretty." The lie grew._

_A flashing thought, quicker than lightning and louder than thunder coursed through his brain._

_Gon wasn't pretty._

_Gon was beautiful._

_Killua shook it off, not sure it that was an observation he was allowed to think. Another guy, could he be beautiful? There was no denying that Gon was physically attractive, it was part of the reason people seemed to flock to him, but Killua wasn't focused so much on the outer beauty._

_It was because, just like Alluka, Killua wanted to bathe in the essence of their souls, hoping it would corrupt his own clouded one._

_It was his smile, and how Killua found it easy to marinate on the idea of them being friends. Gon was kinder to him than any peer he had met in his life, and felt there was a common ground the two of them could walk on. A storm brewed inside of Killua, and he prematurely felt that Gon was the boat to take him to shore._

_Alluka smiled warmly as she watched Killua lose himself in thought. "Big brother," she said softly, "you really like this Gon, don't you?"_

_Killua glanced his widened eyes in her direction, betraying his answer before his lips parted. Killua had always believed that people needed time and experience before forming a bond, but Gon came so naturally, as if he found something he didn't know he was missing._

_What was this? What did people call this?_

_"I suppose," he said dreamily, internally spreading angst in his bones. They ached with the unknown or maybe he was just making it too hard on himself. "But we just met. Do you think that it's strange?"_

_Alluka shook her head, her eyes never leaving his face. "Absolutely not! I think those are the best kinds of people! In the books that I read," her thumb stretched backwards to the pile of colored spines in the corner, "they talk about love at first sight. I think that can happen with friends too."_

_It was Killua's turn to produce a loving smile, only this was short lived. Alluka smile faded into a solemn frown, eyes falling back to the floor. Killua instinctively scooted closer to her knees. "Alluka, what's wrong?"_

_"It's just," she bit her lip, feeling the hot liquid rising in her nose towards her eyes, "I wish I could meet him. I want to meet the person who makes big brother smile. I hate being cooped up in here." There was no pressing back as large beads rained down her cheeks. Killua stretched outwards, engulfing her like a blanket of security. He rubbed her hair, trying to find an answer that could explain why it was this way._

_His mind cleared, a welcomed silence compared to after a strong rainfall settled within._

_There was only one solution to this, one that could save him and her._

_He leaned back and grabbed the sides of her face, eyes going every which way until they settled on a spot in her pupils. He needed her to really hear him._

_"Alluka," his voice was barely above a whisper, trying to not break let his emotions possess him completely, "I am going to get us out of here. You don't deserve this kind of life."_

_She whimpered, sniffling back the water that threatened to leak down her nostril, "But how, Big Brother? Mother would never let you."_

_"Mother," he spat the name out, unconvinced that she could ever live up to the title, "will have no say so in the matter when I graduate. I'm leaving this estate, and I'm taking you with me."_

_Alluka's eyes widened before relaxing into pleasure. She nodded her head, hugging his words against her heart with hope. "Okay, big brother. I would really love that." She chewed on her top lip again, words caught in her throat. "Is it okay," she was unsure of his answer, "if Nanika can come too?"_

_He smiled, looking at her as if she should already know. "Nanika is always invited wherever we go. She's one of us too, you know."_

_Killua didn't know if his heart could handle any more of the sun beams that Alluka threw at him with her dazzling smile._

_He kissed the top of her forehead, before letting her flesh leave his completely. His stomach was in knots, but he knew that he would not go back on his words. Alluka needed more than what any other Zoldyk could offer her._

_Alluka needed love and Killua had more than enough to give._

* * *

Killua replayed the exchange over and over in his head as he looked out the window of the limo. It was raining again, perfect for the somber mood that he couldn't escape this morning. His butler, Gotoh, straightened the mirror, glancing back at the lanky teen.

"Are you okay, Master Killua? You don't seem yourself this morning."

Killua glanced at him back through the review mirror, blues irises clouded with sadness. "Would you be, Gotoh?"

Gotoh pressed his lips together and cleared his throat. He glanced back at the road ahead, thoughts swimming with words.

_No, Master Killua. If I were you, nothing would ever be alright._

* * *

Yorkshin High always smelled like lemon floor cleaner on Monday mornings.

It was a smell that Killua couldn't stand; too tart for his tastes, but this morning it blended in with the thickness in his throat. The students moved around his in a haze, like negatives on a photo strip, he didn't even recognize the way they seemed to stare at him.

Unlike everyone else, he made no matter to shelter himself from the thick droplets of rain that poured from the angry sky. Now his hair clung to his cheeks like a second skin; his sneakers sloshing water as he pulled himself through the halls.

"Killua!"

Killua's head rose, becoming aware of his surroundings since he had first trotted into the building. Now he could see the various stares that were trying to hide their questioning. He frowned at the attention, seeking out the known occupant of the voice.

A tan arm swung wildly to his left, Gon's other arm fished through his locker for his textbook. "Good morning, Killua!"

Killua smiled, gravitating towards Gon like electricity. Everyone else went back to being blurs, his vision tunneling on green tinted black hair strands.

Gon closed his locker, shoveling a book in his sack and placing it around his body. He closed his eyes and smiled crookedly. "Did you fight with the rain, or something? You're soaked."

Killua looked down at his sleeves and chuckled at how the wetly clung to his arms. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't being careful."

Gon returned the laugh, opening his locker back up and retrieving a long sleeved white shirt. "Here," he passed it to him, "you can put this on. I usually leave a lot of extra shirts in here for gym, and it's clean I promise. You can keep it, if you want."

Killua looked at the fabric, reluctantly taking it from him. It was a softer cotton than any retail shop could've sold for, Killua nestled it in between his fingers. "Where did you get this shirt from? Feels nice."

"Oh," Gon closed his locker, turning the lockpad to prevent intrusion, "my aunt makes them for me. She pretty much makes all of my clothes, actually."

Killua eyed Gon's outfit: a long fitted green shirt and black pants. It was simple, but Killua was impressed at the craftsmanship of the seams. "She does good."

"Yeah, Aunt Mito is a woman of many talents. You should come by some time and try her cooking."

Killua swallowed. _An invitation?_ _Was it okay to accept?_ "I guess I should trust you when it comes to food choices. That spaghetti was really good. I might take you up on that offer."

"Hope so!" Gon beamed, causing Killua's heart to race. He looked away, afraid of what other things he would think of if he continued to look at Gon's face.

"You okay?" Gon reached out to touch Killua's wet shoulder, hand staying a little longer than it should, "You don't look so good."

Killua took a deep breath so that his words didn't come out in a jumbled tornado. "Yeah, yeah, I'm just cold from the rain. I'll go change before first bell rings." Gon dropped his hand; Killua didn't think he wanted him to.

"Okay," Gon said, trying to keep his own composure. "Me and Zushi usually meet outside for lunch, and when it rains we eat in the library. Cafeteria's too loud, you wanna join?"

Killua nodded his head before he could analyze the situation any further. He turned around, partly to head to the bathroom and the other to cover the color swirls in his face. He didn't turn back around to Gon, which may have best for him at the moment.

That way, he didn't have to see the way Gon's eyes called for him to come back.

* * *

Teachers, Killua discovered, lost all motivation to teach when it was a storm outside.

Most of them declared the day to be a movie day, which meant Killua could use an excuse to nap. His mind was plastered with images of he and Alluka laying on a beach in a deserted island, drinking colorful soft drinks with fruit decoration and laughing about how good life is. He would always wake up too early, salty beach sand still lingering between his toes. Disappointment always gnawed at his brain, frustrating him when he realized reality was far less enjoyable. _Soon_ , he promised, _I will make it our true lives, Alluka_.

By the time lunch had crept up on him, Killua was well energized. Clearly Gon and Zushi felt the same, as both were energetic as they ruffled through their lunch bags.

"Zushi," Gon stirred his soup around and elbowed his friend, "this is my friend, Killua. The one I told you about from art class."

Killua bit away the expression that he wanted to show, taking a gulp of chocolate milk instead. _He talks about me?_

"Oh yeah!," Zushi's thick eyebrows raised in recognition, taking a bite of the sandwich his fingers occupied, "He tells me you have crazy talent."

Killua shrugged, not too sure how to accept the compliment. "I'm okay, I guess. He's one to talk, he's pretty talented himself. You have a gift with charcoal."

Two apples replaced Gon's cheeks, appreciation for the compliment. "Thanks, Killua."

Killua grumbled as he bit into his own sandwich. Zushi smiled.

"You should see what a genius he is with a camera," Zushi eyed Gon, bragging on Gon's behalf. "Did you tell him about the show tonight, Gon?"

Gon swallowed loudly - Killua felt bad for how his throat must feel at the uneaten food particles – clearing his throat at the newly produced information. "No, I uh, I hadn't gotten to that _Zushi_."

Zushi stuck his tongue out at Gon, playfully mocking his stammering.

"What show?" Killua wished he had brought his sketch book with him instead of leaving it in his locker, Gon's face would make a perfect character study for class.

"It's nothing too major, honestly. I have a friend at an art college who puts up galleries of local artists. He wanted to use a few of my photos for this showing tonight, I assume because he needed to fill up the space."

Zushi scoffed. "Oh please, Gon. I don't know why you're being so modest." He looked towards Killua, passion and admiration speaking his words for him. "Gon is amazing, I even think Wing would be proud if he realized he had a faraway protégé. Seriously man, I get shivers sometimes at how monumental his pictures are."

"Wow," Killua bit down another bite of his sandwich, drinking his juice to break down the bread, "sounds like you're an artist in many facets."

Gon put his hands up, waving off any more compliments from the duo. "No, no, no, I still have a lot of work to do before I get that good."

"Killua, I'm telling you," Zushi was in no rush to back down from his campaign; Killua thought of how his parents would marvel at his insistent persuasion, "The guy is _good_. Don't let him scare you away from thinking otherwise. In my opinion, you should just come yourself and see. Then you can join me in knocking some sense into this goofball."

Killua's eyes traced over to Gon, a hotness sweeping in his belly. A part of him wanted to hear the words come out of Gon's mouth; the other was mentally coming up with reasons why he wouldn't be able to go.

Gon cleared his throat, taking a long swig from his water bottle. He licked his lips, using his hand as a talking guide. "Despite that I think you'll be bored out of your mind, and also that you will see that there are way more talented people than myself, Killua," Killua caught his breath in between his lips, careful to not to mimic the Red Sea, "would you like to come to the gallery with me tonight?"

"You should," Zushi talked before Killua could answer, "he's going to be by himself, anyways. I have to work."

"I won't be completely alone, Zushi, since Kurapica's hosting the thing. But it would be nice," honey eyes hesitantly fluttered towards blue ones, "if you could come. I totally understand if you couldn't."

"I'll try," Killua breathed out, feeling that was the most honest answer he could give. "I can't promise you anything, but Zushi makes them seem like something I need to see."

"You do," Zushi scarfed down the last of his sandwich, wiping crumbs from the corners of his mouth, "you'll regret it if you don't."

Killua gave a small sound of satisfaction, secretly enjoying the nervous way Gon had invited him. It was, dare he say it, cute.

The apples never left Gon's face.

* * *

The sun was out now, illuminating Killua's mood.

Gotoh noticed it, smiling at the way Killua's eyes were now laced with wonder and sentiment. "I take it you had a good day, Master Killua?"

"Hmmm?" Killua looked like he had just awoken from a dream, his pupils trying to settle with the picture of reality. "What are you talking about?"

"You're smiling," Gotoh took one hand off of the steering wheel to emphasize his point, finger running over the curvature of his lips, "and it doesn't look forced."

"Oh," Killua looked down at his pale hands, pink undertones softly speckled over his fingers, "I suppose it's not forced."

"Did you meet a nice girl? I smiled like that when I met a pretty girl in high school."

Killua jerked his head upwards, lungs inhaling with instability. "N-no. I just….had a good day, is all."

"Oh, that's too bad. I'm sure your mother would just love it if you found a suitable partner so early. That would look very well in the public's eye."

"What my mother loves and doesn't love is no matter to me. She loves the wrong things, anyways." Killua felt his broodiness return at the mention of his mother. He looked back out the window, upset at Gotoh's oblivious statement.

Gotoh softened his eyes, instantly upset with himself for the volcano fire he was sure he erupted in Killua. He meant no harm by it; the words spilled out faster than his brain could register.

Of course Killua did not want to hear about his mother, or anyone else in the upstairs Zoldyk family, for that matter.

Gotoh wondered if Killua told everyone that he was some kind of orphan.

* * *

Kikyo Zoldyk was not one to beat around the bush.

Killua had barely pressed his feet to the lush mahogany carpet in the door frame before she was calling his name. Killua took a deep breath, irritation plaguing his stomach. She was the last person he wanted to see.

"Killua, come in the study, it's important."

Killua cursed under his breath, knowing _important_ was code word for _you've managed to fuck up, again._

He dragged his feet to her study, plopping down in the chair in front of her desk. Kikyo looked unnaturally glamorous; her brown hair tousled into a beehive on the top of her head. Her lips were pursed, bright red lipstick disappearing into tight lines, and a perfectly manicured nail drumming the desk in front of her. If Killua did not know any better, he would think she was a loving, doting mother.

Instead, Killua related his mother to a robot; one who treated her family like they were a part of her government office.

Killua rolled his eyes as Illumi clouded the room like a dark shadow, plopping down on the loveseat under the window. He looked at Killua with mischief.

"What's he doing here?" Killua placed a finger of blame at Illumi, eyes focused on his mother to avoid looking into pitch, black pits.

"He's here," Kikyo pushed some papers in front of her and gripped a pen, "to help me talk some sense into you. What are you doing with yourself, Killua?"

Killua stared at her, causing Illumi to clear his throat. "Mother is talking to you, Kil," he scolded.

"I heard her," Killua's tone equivalent to a cornered animal with fangs bearing, " I just am not sure what puppet answer she is looking for."

Kikyo tilted her head downwards, laugh oozing with ignorance. "I'm sick of your 'woe-is-me' sarcasm, Killua. You treat me and everyone else in the family like we're dog shit. How can you be so upset at us for wanting the best for you?"

"How?!" Killua's face felt like a pile of jelly, shock causing the muscles in his mouth to droop. "You dare ask me _how_?"

"Killua," Kikyo said his name sternly, teeth replaced by glass shards, "you cannot continue to blame me for _that_. I did what was best. Sort of like what I'm trying to do now, for you. Our family has been on the Kukuroo council for generations, why would you want to spoil that so close to your vote for seat?"

"Did it ever occur to you," Killua clenched his teeth, speaking his words carefully, "that I have no desire to be like you? I don't want to join Kukuroo's council seat, I could give a rat's ass about voters, and the last thing I want is to have my name affiliated with a bunch of lying, insane, _monsters."_

The room loomed with tense silence, an ongoing event in the Zoldyk estate. Kikyo pushed her chair back slowly, circling around her desk. She stood in front of Killua.

"My dear Killua," she purred before raising her hand, stinging the side of his cheek. It hurt, but no more than the scars that his family permanently left on his heart. "You must understand, family is everything."

Killua rubbed the side of his cheek, angry tears sprouting in the middle of his eyes. "You don't have the first clue about _family_ ," he spat the words like knives, each one stabbing her in the chest. He looked over at Illumi, wanting to push him through the large window. "None of you do."

Illumi laughed, a pale hand playing through his coal black wispy hair. "Oh, _Kil_ , don't tell me this is a tantrum about that _thing_ in the basement? I thought we were all on the same accord? That it is in no way a Zoldyk?"

Killua stared blankly at Illumi, his blue eyes becoming cold and dangerous with ice. His breathing became irregular, and if Illumi didn't wipe that smug grin off of his face, he didn't know what he was going to do.  
Kikyo exhaled, placing a finger on her temple. "Speaking of which, you're spending too much time with it, Killua. You know the rules: unlock the door and place food on the table, it's as simple as that. I've been hearing that you're down there for hours _laughing_."

Killua stood up, no longer able to breathe in the emotionally suffocating room. He walked to the doorway, stopping just before passing through. "She is our sister, Illumi. And she is your daughter, Mother. Nothing you can do will change that, no matter what methods you've tried to use before." Hot liquid spilled down his cheeks, dirtying Kikyo's prized possession of a rug. "I wish, very badly, that I could stoop to your level and get some sort of closure here, but she wouldn't want me to do that." He walked away from the situation, his back hot with the heat of murderous glares from behind him.

"Illumi," Kikyo's eyes never left the door way her middle child walked through. She narrowed her eyes with realization. "I doubt he goes to his room."

"Say no more, Mother," Illumi stood tall, fixing the collar on his teal shirt, "I'm on it."

* * *

Killua did not realize how far he could skate when he was upset.

He was now viewing the overhead of downtown Yorkshin, the sun melting into the moon, creating the last bit of twilight.

His leg vibrated, Gon's name flashing on the screen. Killua smiled crookedly, feeling the darkness in his chest give way to a sliver of light.

"Yo."

"Hey, Killua! I just got your message." Gon's voice was the medicine Killua didn't know he needed.

"Cool, but you couldn't just have texted me the address?"

Gon's laugh leapt through the phone, diving head first into Killua's ear. He held the phone back from his ear to prevent eternal damage.

"Yeah, I guess I could have. But I like using the phone sometimes, you know? Gives more meaning if you can hear a person's voice."

Killua did not know. But he was thinking that maybe he was starting to understand.

"Okay, I'll bite. Where am I meeting you at?"

"It's at the galleria on 15th street. Do you know how to get there?"

"Yeah, I can manage, with my skateboard I should be there in about ten minutes."

"Okay perfect. See you soon, Killua….hey, Killua?"

The tone in Gon's voice changed, Killua's stomach filling with balloons. "Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you're coming. I'll see you when you get here." Killua heard the click before he could register Gon's words. He felt something light and airy dance is belly again, rising towards the middle of his chest. This was getting strange, the feelings attached to being someone's _friend_. Killua was unsure how much of it he was making harder for himself.

* * *

Gon was leaning against a brick wall, holding a cup close his side, talking to a college student.

Killua felt immediately underdressed, the attire reminding him of hosted dinners he attended.

Gon looked up as the door opened, a grin splitting his face as he noticed silver and blue cascade in the room. He weaved through the crowd as if on roller skates, magnets pulling opposite sides.

Killua felt anxiety glide through his spine, Gon's black dress shirt, red suspenders and black pants causing him to swallow a strange reaction down his throat. Gon looked – dapper, if Killua could find a correct adjective. The honey in his eyes seemed to glow brighter against the dark colors and dim lighting.

Gon did not stop at the polite distance one normally walks to, instead pulling Killua into a hug. Killua tensed at the gesture, not expecting him to do and not really wanting him to stop.

Gon leaned his head in further, his smile radiating even in the night. He leaned in close to Killua's ear.

"Thank you so much, Killua, I didn't know anyone here."

The hot breath in his ear made this more difficult. Killua caught the air that lodged in his throat, feeling tickling the outer skin of his face. "No problem," he said, breaking free of the grasp, "thanks for inviting me."

Gon beamed, gesturing Killua to move towards the front with him. The galleria was very kind to the art on the walls, spots of light illuminating the frames. The rest of the floorspace was dimly lit, Gon's eyes lighting the way for Killua to see. Killua awed at the photography, convinced that famed artists were behind the masterpieces. Gon tugged his sleeve, pulling him in the direction of a blonde man.

"I want to introduce you to my friend, the one who put all of this together." He tapped the man on the shoulder, the blonde turning around slightly. He smiled at Gon, and gave the same expression to Killua.

"Killua, this is my friend Kurapika. He used to go to Yorkshin when I was a sophomore, and we talked about photography a lot. Kurapika, this is my friend Killua."

Kurapika shook Killua's hand, Killua noticing for the first time the intense reddish brown irises he possessed.

"Nice to meet you, finally."

"Finally?" Killua raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Gon, who simply smiled sheepishly.

"Before you arrived, he wouldn't shut up about you. Nothing but good things, I should add."

Killua felt the heat invade his cheeks, red surfacing on pale skin. If Kurapika noticed, he didn't specify.

"I've heard things about you too. You like collecting art?"

Kurapika's eyes danced around the room with pride, his unique eye color speckling under the fluorescent light. "Indeed, I do. I like surround myself with different inspirations at once, to keep me motivated. It's been a hobby of mine for a while, but I just started hosting these events. You can buy them too, if you wanted. I encourage you to buy them, actually, a good chunk of the proceeds goes to the artist."

Killua nodded, several pieces catching his eyes. "Mind if I go take some looks?"

Kurapika all but waved him off. "Please do, don't let me keep you from the experience." He chuckled lightly, generating an honest smile out of Killua. "Gon, show him around to a few pieces. And of course that means your own. I'll talk with you guys later on." Kurapika danced through the people surrounding him, finding another party to chat with.

Gon led Killua around the curvature in the wall towards the back. "It's better to work your way up." He knew Killua would question where they were going.

Killua stopped halfway at one picture that caught his eye. It was a black and white photo of a couple sitting in a park. Their mouths were wide opened with laughter, eyes glimmering with happiness. Killua could hear the conversations they were having, and he couldn't stop himself from touching the frame. It was the most genuinely honest photo he had ever lay his eyes on. The couple had retreated to their own world, the outer perimeters of the photo blurred out to signify that no one else mattered.

"Killua?" Gon turned around, walking back to Killua. His breath caught when he looked at what caught Killua's attention. "You like that one?"

"Yeah," Killua marveled, voice sounding distant and light. "It's so real, it's _beautiful_."

Gon looked at the photo, one hand gripping the other forearm. "What do you see?"

"Love." Killua said that word effortlessly, and yet the nausea couldn't be stopped on its completion. Maybe that's why he resonated with it so much; it represented what he wanted to have. "Pure love, it's almost envious. The photographer has a true gift to capture such a raw moment. I wonder who took it," He bent at the knees, coming face to face at the white index card. His eyes widened at the revelation. He looked up at Gon, who looked bashful.

"You?" he blinked away his shock. "You took this?"

"Yeah, I did."

Killua stood now, accidently brushing arms with Gon. His skin felt warm against Killua's ice. "Wow, Gon, you're amazing."

Apples returned to cheeks as Gon's stomach fluttered. "T-thank you, Killua."

Killua stared at him for a while, marveled at how Gon was able to make him feel something so profound, with only a photo. Gon's mouth parted into a perfect circle, unable to move away from Killua's gaze. Thumping hearts that sounded like firecrackers. Killua felt the inexplicable urge to have warm golden skin on his shoulder again. Killua used to wonder if he merely a corpse. When Gon was around him, he felt alive.

Gon's tongue became a desert, and he swallowed to break the silence. "Umm…do you want to know the story behind the photo?"

Killua breathed life back in him, his fixation on honey making him feel dizzy. "Yeah, go for it."

"Well, these guys are homeless. I talked with them every so often when I was bird watching. They're really in love, it's actually very beautiful to see. A few weeks before I took this photo, the one on the left was beat up pretty badly. A hate crime by some drunken assholes. I heard about it and went to see them, and they didn't let it phase them. They said they only needed each other to be around to make everything alright. I took this picture afterwards, I edited the bruises out, I wanted people to just see them."

"Sometimes," Killua said dazed, "scars can never leave. Sometimes, they're just a part of who you've come to be."

Gon looked into a discolored brick, mind looping around Killua's words. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

More silence engulfed between them, Killua seeing a wave in the ocean of Gon's eye. He instinctively reached out, touching Gon's shoulder, their breathing mingling.

"Gon," Killua breathed, hand twitching on Gon's shoulder, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," Gon lied, letting whatever cloud looming over his head wring out, "I was just thinking about those guys."

"When you say guys," Killua stared at the picture again, removing his hand and placing it in his pocket, "are they both-"

"Men, yeah. I know the hair sometimes throws people off."

"Oh." Killua looked at the picture deeper now, his awe of it growing. He looked at their happy faces, the way their fingers intertwined. Letting whatever malicious energy swimming around them unable to break their barrier. A feeling bit the inside of his chest.

"That's very sweet."

Killua and Gon turned around, a voice singing through the shadows. Killua's eyes narrowed at the realization of the owner.

"Illumi," Killua snarled, anger hugging his body, "what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Illumi chuckled, shaking his head at his little brother. Killua had to look away from his ghosts of eyes.

"Mother," Illumi reached his palm out to invite Killua's hand, "says it's time to come home."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry about the length of this chapter, guys. I just had a lot of story.
> 
> Thank you to the awesome readers and commenters of this fic.
> 
> Means a lot to me, as always.
> 
> -Till next time,
> 
> Bitchii-usa


	5. Five: Light

_**Five** _

_**Light** _

Illumi's presence was a suffocating black shadow.

Sometimes, Killua would compare it to the darkness that engulfs you when you spend too much time underwater. Sneaks up on you at first, but then it hugs tight to you like wet clothing.

Illumi stood in front of Killua and Gon, his eyes the substance of black ink. Killua swallowed to prevent the pressure of cracking underneath their void; his knees buckled under the weight of his worries.

Illumi cocked his head to the side, his expression that of a porcelain doll. "Kil," he sang, "why are you still standing here? It's getting late and Mother doesn't like to worry."

"I'm not coming with you, Illumi." Killua's chest was a dry desert heat and he struggled to breathe through the restrictions. "You've wasted your time coming here."

Illumi dropped his hand, placing both arms around each other. The light illuminated his pale face, making one half look sinister and daunting. His mouth cornered downwards, his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. "Kil, I wasn't asking for your cooperation. Please don't make me resort to other methods of taking you home. You know I hate a scene."

Killua eyed Gon from his stance; the poor teen looked confused and guarded. Killua's stomach collided with his sides at Gon's reaction. He knew sooner or later, this would happen.

"Illumi," Killua evened out his tone to a lullaby, trying to soothe Illumi's domineering position, "please, can you just let me be? I don't want to go home, and you know better than to force me to do something I don't want to."

"And you know better than to ask me such a silly request."

Killua sighed, contemplating what to do. He didn't want this night to be something he left in his teeth to taste as he slept. But Illumi was not the type to back down…not without a little _force_.

"I said," Killua projected the baritone of his voice to the ceiling, sucking in as much air as he could pitch from his belly to create a mountain of his words, "that I do not want to go with you!"

Heads began to turn in their direction, hushed whispers curious to the scene in front of them. Illumi looked uncomfortably irate. He cleared his throat to give his hands a distraction. "Kil, what are you doing?"

"Go home, Illumi Zoldyk!"

The surname caught the attention of bystanders, several asking if that was _the_ Illumi Zoldyk. He had made quite a name for himself by taking over his grandfather's role as financial advisor of Kukuroo, making it one of the richest cities in the surrounding areas. The Zoldyks, in their typical fashion, did not appreciate many photos of their family, instead relying on word of mouth endorsements. That was exactly the way Illumi liked it.

Illumi's eyes danced with danger, a threat to his brother to keep quiet. Killua felt the mischief swish around his mouth, and he spit it out before it burned his tongue any longer.

"Go back to Kukuroo, Illumi!"

There was no mistaking the spotlight on Illumi. His skin became silk with sweat, eyes twitching with irritation. Illumi cursed under his breath, his maliciousness blanketing the area Killua stood in. Killua shivered at its invasion, but didn't back down. Illumi disappeared in the shadows, as quickly as he came before any further damage could be inflicted.

Killua's fingernail was cutting blood in his palm; a small trickle running down his wrist. It dripped to the floor, alarming Gon. "Killua," he rasped, voice shaky, "you're bleeding."

Killua opened his palm, looking for reasons and answers in the lines of the crevices of his skin. He came back empty; as blank as his own pale skin.

His mind became dizzy with regret, an impulse grinding inside. Killua did what he knew best.

He ran.

* * *

 

The cold air hit his cheeks like tiny needles, a sting of pain manifesting with every huff. Killua had forgotten his skate board in the galleria. He didn't care.

It was a clear night, but he hoped the rain would cascade his face so they could blend his tears like paint. He didn't know where he was running to; his feet moved despite the scolding of his brain.

He didn't want to leave Gon like that, but he had no answers for the questions that loitered the air. Furthermore, Gon would probably run off if he were to know the truth.

Killua ceased his running, sounds against the pavement in a decrescendo. He hovered over the cement, sweat trickling down his nose. His shallow breathing filled the night air, creating a symphony with the crickets.  
"Killua!"

Killua caught the last of his ragged breaths in his throat, turning around to face the voice. His lungs were hot lava and he had to clutch his chest to prevent them from spilling inside. Honey danced in the ink stained night as Gon raced to Killua.

Gon's breathing was also ragged as he handed Killua his skateboard. "Here," he breathed, "you almost forgot this."

Killua accepted the gift, hands gliding over the warmth of Gon's subsided fingers. He looked down at the blue oval in his grasp. "Thank you."

"No problem." Gon's fingers laced the back of his hair, eyes darting between Killua's face and the sky as he played around with unspoken words. "So, what was that back there anyways?"

Killua's heart sank inside. He knew Gon would ask - why wouldn't he? - but a burn still hurts even when the fire is gone.

"That…..was my brother."

"Oh, well I figured that much," Gon skated among his words, careful not to offend Illumi. He didn't see too much of a reason, though. Killua and Illumi did not seem to have a typical relationship.

"Gon." Killua breathed in his name with his next inhale, clutching it close so that he wouldn't have to associate it with his next words. Gon's eyes found his, and the locked on to each other's in silence, with Killua afraid to speak.

"What is it, Killua?" it was hard to ignore Gon's request for an explanation. His face invited Killua in like old friends. The warmth radiated to the Killua's carefully built wall, shining through.

"You deserve better than me," Killua spit the words out of his mouth like they were causing him pain. He wanted to get this over with, afraid of what would happen if he didn't.

"I don't understand."

Killua scoffed. "Of course you don't, and that's the way it needs to be kept. This is what always happens when I get close to someone. _They_ get in the way."

"Who's _they?_ Your family?"

"Yeah, _them_. They're not good people, Gon, and I wouldn't be surprised if one day I turn out like them. You don't need a friend like me."

Gon's eyes softened with realization. Killua stood engulfed in the night like a shivering kitten looking for shelter. Out of place, cold, picked over, and most importantly:

Looking for warmth.

Gon inched towards Killua, resting his palms on both of his shoulders. Killua had to brace his feet to prevent himself from oozing under the pressure of his hands. His eyes met Gon's, pupils shifting to find balance. Gon held his own steady, allowing Killua space for clarity.

"Killua, it doesn't work like that. I don't have limitations on friendships. You don't need to have it all together, you know. That's not the way I love."

Killua swallowed at the word. _Love?_ Of course someone like Gon could say it and mean it in a platonic fashion. But that didn't erase the tension Killua cracked in his knuckles.

"Killua, you're _not_ your family."

It was the inhaler Killua needed to breathe again. Hearing someone else say it - hearing _Gon_ say it - sparked a light inside of him. He closed his eyes, thrusting his hands in his pocket and lowered his head to stop the cherries from dancing on his cheeks. "Thanks, Gon. Really."

"That's what friends do," he dropped his hands, leaving a hole in Killua's chest, and rubbed the back of his hair again. "So what now, Killua?"

Killua tilted his head back, eyes adjusting to the sugar dust sprayed in the night sky. The moon was diligently silver tonight; Killua closed his eyes and bathed in the luminosity.

He let out a breath of air, white smoke from the cold pirouetting in front of his chin. "I suppose, I'll have to figure it out."

"But you don't want to go home, right?"

Killua shook his head, his mind was made up before he even made it to Yorkshin.

"Then how about we call it a night? Kurapika will understand." Gon reached out and grabbed Killua's wrist, pulling him forward. Killua had to steady himself before he collided with the pavement.

"Where are we going, Gon?"

Gon turned back around, his eyes glimmering with happiness.

"We're going to my place."

* * *

 

Gon's home was equivalent to a freshly baked cookie melting on your tongue.

Warm browns, ivory greens and dandelion yellows orchestrated a _home_ and not the place of residence that Killua was used to.

Someone was cooking- probably the Aunt that Gon mentioned often - and Killua could taste the tomatoes that tickled his nose.

"Aunt Mito!" Gon loosened his suspenders, the fabric falling loosely at his hips. Killua wanted to sketch the muscles that protruded through Gon's black shirt. Even from behind, Gon was attractive.

A middle aged woman emerged from the kitchen, drying a dish in her hand. Wavy brown hair was messily tucked into a bun on the back of her head, tendrils of hair framing her face. She mimicked Gon's perfectly shaped 'O' mouth, confused at the extra guest.

"Aunt Mito, this is my friend Killua. The one I told you about?"

She gasped in delight and sat the dish on the table. She wiped her hands clean on her apron, before approaching Killua with her arms open. "It's so nice to meet you!" She blanketed him with affection, a warm hug that made him never want to leave. _The way a mother's hug should be felt._

Mito stepped back a bit, engraving blue eyes and silver hair into her memory. "My, you are handsome!" She winked at him, causing Killua's face to paint with red. "Gon sure knows how to pick em."

Gon cleared his throat, swallowing secrets that only he and Mito share. She realized her mistake, stepping back towards the kitchen. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Killua. Gon talks very fondly of you. I assume you'll be staying the night?"

Gon nodded his head, his face beaming with satisfaction. "As long it's okay with you, Aunt Mito."

"I don't mind, as long as you boys eat something. I don't even want to imagine the filth you both eat during the day. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Gon, be a dear and show Killua where to freshen up. You both get clean before dinner."

Killua looked over to Gon, who was already heading towards the carpeted stairs. "This way," Gon's head nodded in an upwards direction, "everything we need is upstairs."

Killua's feet felt like they would melt into the softness of the cream carpet, each step threatening to swallow him whole. It was strange, seeing photos of Gon from a toddler throughout adolescence decorating the walls. Kikyo had a plethora of family photos, but she kept them in a room, suffocating unless she felt inclined to show off.

Killua smiled as a small, toothless Gon flashed a cheeky grin to the camera, a fishing rod too big for his tiny hands. He was pointing to a large fish, a darkened shadow stood to the side of him holding the line. Killua noticed the dark shadow in a lot of pictures, but it seemed like it had been cut out to erase memories that were too hot to touch. If anything, Killua had been taught to not get burned.

Gon pressed a door open, a dim red light punching his irises. "This," Gon held his palm out, inviting Killua into his domain, "is my room."

It was exactly the kind of space Killua imagined Gon would surround himself in: black and white original photos plastered on the walls, a small wire line on the back wall of the room, pictures dangling on clothespins. Killua wanted to swallow the entire atmosphere, keep the inspiration lodged in his belly in case he needed reminders later.

"It's you, that's for sure," Killua began to awe the prints on display as Gon shuffled through his closet. "I know I told you before, but you're very talented."

Gon resurfaced, white towels and sleeping shorts folded in his tan hands. He looked embarrassed, not believing in his own magnificent madness. "Thank you, it's just a hobby."

"A damned good one. I don't know who this Wing guy is, but I'd check him out if he inspired _this_."

Gon passed off the linens in his hands, using his free hand to rub the back of his neck. "If you did, you'd realize how much of an amateur I am. But," Gon sat back on his bed, the moon illuminating the sharp curve of his jawline. Killua had to catch his breath in his cheeks at the constellation that sat in front of him. If he had a mirror, he would hold it up to Gon just so he could witness first hand just how ethereal he was. "I don't want to ever stop taking pictures, you know? I can't wait for all of the knowledge I'll get at University."

"I'm sure they'll be jealous," Killua wasn't sure what he meant by that. His photos were thought invoking pieces, but the literal artwork that had blessed Gon's features was sure to cause people to unravel at the threads. Killua felt as if he had already started. "The other students, they'll be jealous. I know I am."

Gon tilted his head so that the moon ignited warm yellow flakes dancing around his pupil. A small pout invaded his mouth. "Why would you ever be jealous of me, Killua?"

Killua's throat was wet with the sentences that he wanted to say. They crossed each other like train tracks, messy and crashing home. He breathed deeply, allowing a slight detangle at their woven jumble. "You just have this way of making people _feel_ ….I guess….I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"I think I know," Gon's finger played with the thread that unraveled at the hemline of his shirt nervously. Perhaps he could feed the words that Killua closed his mouth to. "It's like when you didn't know you were capable to feel anything anymore, like it was locked away for good, and then something inspires you and unlocks the door. Something like that, right?"

"Yeah, something inspires you."

"Or some _one_." Gon threw up the words before he had time to digest them. Killua stared at him in silence, questions bulldozing his mind causing him to feel dizzy. Gon swallowed air, along with the words that he wished he could take back.

"Yeah," Killua breathed, voice barely a whisper, "or someone."

Killua wished he had his paintbrush to grab the color that erupted on Gon's cheeks. He wanted to decorate a paper with it, so he could look at it at night before he slept. Gon looked down at his feet, stretching them against the hardwood floors. Killua could feel the gravitational pull towards the bed, to sit next to Gon and touch his hand, perhaps run a finger through his black strands of hair, and pull back all of the words he wished Gon would say.

It was as if everything clicked in that moment. He knew it; of course he did, from the moment that he witnessed the sun shining in art class. He knew it when he traced outlines of sharp jawlines and honey eyes in his mind while he daydreamed. But maybe he didn't _want_ to know it; maybe he wanted to tuck it under his tongue until the taste was too sweet to keep to his self.

He had fallen for Gon, but he wasn't sure if Gon would catch him when he splattered from the jump.

It made sense; why he never cared about the beautiful girls at school. Why he never understood how other boys marveled at their feet while he sat from a distasteful distance. He had never paid attention to boys either; it led him to research the word _asexual._

Gon was the exception, it appeared. It seemed as if the stars in the sky had held back their entire glimmer until the day they met. And while the feeling warmed his insides like hot cocoa, it also scared him shitless.

* * *

 

The next morning was a blur for Killua.

He couldn't seem to unwrap his mind from around his revelation. To call it a crush seemed so juvenile; love seemed too early.

So he found himself uncomfortably in the middle, whatever adjective necessary.

He felt like he was holding his breath for each class to end, words droning on in his head until they became the consistency of mud. All for art class to come.

All so he could spill his secrets to the canvas.

And when the time finally came, Killua had to clutch his chest to make sure his heart didn't beat too loudly.

Gon waltzed in, his presence instantly illuminating the classroom. Killua chewed on the string of his hoody to avoid screaming his name.

"Hi, Killua!" Gon beamed as he sat down, his elbow brushing Killua's sleeve. "I'm surprised you're so alert, I heard you tossing and turning all night."

The damp string fell from Killua's mouth and collided with his chest. Killua ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting all of the words that were caught in between the spaces. After a moment, he found the courage to speak. "Yeah, sometimes I just have a lot on my mind, is all."

"You know," Gon's brows burrowed together, eyes trying to convey a serious storm. He ran his over his pant leg and Killua could swear he saw a damp stain left behind. "You can talk to me about anything. I know it must feel like I pressure you to _be_ with me-er…my friend, y'know? And I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable and all, but-" Gon swallowed, arching his neck backwards so that Killua had a close view of the action. He had to mentally stop himself from running a finger down his neck to see what happened when fire collided with ice. "—well, I care about you. And sometimes you look so lost in thought, like you wish you could just scream it out for the world to hear but no one listens, and I know what that's like and—"

"How?"

Gon ceased his rambling, tiny suns lit with confusion. "What?"

"How do you know what that's like?"

Gon looked away from Killua's face, eyes settled on a Picasso poster in the corner of the room. Gon wondered if this was the pressure people felt when they confessed their sins to a priest. "I…I just know."

Killua chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "You don't play fair, Freecs."

"So you say."

"You don't." Killua's hand found itself on Gon's shoulder, forcing their eyes to meet through clouded lies. "You want me to open up to you, but you don't tell me anything. It's super obvious that you have skeletons in that big ass closet of yours. So I'll tell you what, the day you decide to spill, I'll consider spilling mine."

Gon looked down at his fingers, his mind tangling together into knots that even he hadn't figured out how to undo. "Killua," his voice was damp with emotion, "even I'm not ready for that."

Killua's face was puzzled, his mind littered with questions to fire at Gon. Bisky glided in, ceasing all conversation in the room. She began speaking on how proud she was of everyone in the progress of their sketches, but her voice diminished to a fly's buzzing in Killua's mind. Killua took out a piece of paper, scribbling something down before sliding it over to Gon. On the top was scrawled, _Don't open this until after school!_ , and Gon glanced over at him masking in curiosity. Killua shrugged his shoulders before turning his attention back towards Bisky and her eccentric lecture.

"So today," she gripped her knee that she swung over the other, "we're going to be painting. I'm going to pass around a fishbowl with different topics written on them. Whatever topic you get is what you'll have to talk about for fifteen minutes. While you talk, your partner will be painting the first thing that comes to mind, even if it makes no sense. I need you all to dig deep on me today, and force yourself to think outside of the grid. As long as you all participate on both ends, you'll get a passing mark for the week. Alright, youngsters, let's get to it."

Killua's hand nestled through the fishbowl when it was passed to him, picking a white paper from the bottom. He silently prayed that Bisky hadn't gotten too deep in the mud with her choices. He opened the paper, exhaling relief like it was smoke lodged into his lungs. "What kind of music makes you feel at peace?"

Gon cradled a paintbrush in between his fingers, swirling the tip into water. "Ready when you are."

Killua's corners of his mouth meshed into a crooked grin as he stared down at the blank paper in front of Gon. "Music that gives me peace? Well, I like alternative music for one. It helps with my inner rage."

Gon rubbed the brush against a hue of water color paint, bristles altering into a navy blue. "Inner rage?" He chuckled, "I can see that."

"Don't judge, Gon. It does help though, honestly. I like to listen to Coheed and Cambria when I need to just zone out, you know? Claudio helps me relax, don't ask me why."

"I won't," Gon ran his brush down his paper, dirtying it with the blue and transforming shapes, "I've heard a few of their songs, so I can understand."

"You don't seem like the type to listen to Alternative."

"Oh really?" Gon stopped his painting to look up at Killua with a raised brow. "So what should I be listening to?"

"I don't know, classical maybe?"

Gon smiled and looked back down at the paper. "Close enough. I listen to a lot of jazz. My Aunt Mito used to play it when I would get upset. But I like alternative too, I just don't dive deeply—this is supposed to be about you, Killua. I'm sorry, please continue."

"'S okay. That's cool that you listen to jazz, my mom plays it sometimes. I can feel it in my bones, y'know? Like it's seeping into my pores and digging into my joints. Sometimes, I just want to curl up in the notes until I can't breathe anymore. It's amazing because there's no words, and yet the story it tells is incredible."

Gon ferociously swept the brush over the page, more colors vividly nestling into each other. Whites and yellows melting into one, the images leaping from the paper. "Uh huh," the pink snake in his mouth slivered between his lips, his signature sign of concentration, "I completely know what that feels like."

"Really? I used to think I was a little strange for thinking that."

Gon's eyes rolled in Killua's direction, his lids droopy. "Nothing about you is strange, Killua. You're just an artist with a beautiful mind."

Killua turned before Gon could see the cherries emerge on his face. "Yeah, maybe." Killua continued his rant on his love for jazz, comfort engulfing him more and more. It was easy to talk to Gon about this subject, and he was particularly glad it was in regards to something he enjoyed. Gon's brush did a waltz against his piece, twisting and turning into an abstract design.

Bisky called the time, and Gon opened his slip of paper. He frowned slightly before folding the paper in half and stuffing it in his pocket. "What's a memory that you want to hold on forever?"

"What's with the face? It doesn't sound too complicated of a question."

"Yeah, no—I know. It's just a _loaded_ question, you know?"

"How so?"

"Well, it's sort of complicated."

"Then _un_ complicate it. I'm here to listen."

"I know you are. Well, I don't want to forget the day I went to live with my Aunt Mito."

"I can see why, she's pretty great."

Gon's face settled into a warm smile as Killua moved briskly with his acrylics, sopping up the paint and gliding it across his paper. "Yeah, Aunt Mito is the best. She made that first week really nice for me, baked a lot of cookies and cooked a lot of good food. I really like seafood, so she made all of the fish she could fit into the oven. It was very delicious! But most importantly," Gon's expression darkened into a black shadow, sadness bathing in the creases under his eyes, "she made me forget, even if was temporary."

Killua's brush stopped in the middle of a red line, leaving an unwanted smudge underneath. "Forget what?"

" _Him_." The honey in Gon's eyes lost their usual glimmer, instead turning into a muddy gold. Killua reached over to touch his palm, jerking a sudden reaction out of Gon. "Hey, you okay?"

Gon shook his head, clearing his throat to prevent any secrets from spilling through. "Yeah, sorry, I have to use the bathroom, Killua. Excuse me." Gon leapt off of his stool, leaving behind unanswered questions in his wake. Killua glanced down at his half-finished portrait of a bronze boy with yellow rays piercing through his skin. The other half of the face was starting with an angry array of grays and blacks, in complete contradiction with its mirror image. Killua frowned at the paper, wondering what Gon was refusing to tell him. He glanced over at Gon's piece, a silver haired boy with blue skin swallowing a cloud. The image was plastered against the midnight sky; the same color of skin that swam through the figure. It made him seem transparent. The boy's feet were a pale peach color, with the lines blending into the blue for transition. Killua wondered how many clouds the boy had to swallow before he became whole.

Killua knew that whatever secrets Gon was swallowing was breaking the façade that he tried to keep up. Killua wanted Gon to swallow him like the boy in the painting, so that he could fight Gon's inner demons for him. He knew that was impossible; demons don't go away that easily.

He was hoping that Gon broke his word and read the paper in the bathroom. Killua swished around the desire for Gon to open up to him in his mouth. The taste became bitter as he realized that he was being a hypocrite. Everyone has a darkness looming over their heads; Killua would set his world on fire if he dared to breathe out his own secrets.

But that's why he _needed_ Gon to understand.

Because Killua didn't want to go through this alone, either.

Because Gon was trying too hard to hold up his own walls that he couldn't see the cracks at the base.

Because Killua wanted to catch Gon when he finally fell from his prideful throne.

Because…

Because… _Gon._

Even though the words were long written down, Killua could still feel them tumbling about in his belly.

_Darkness sucks, trust me I get it. But wouldn't it be better to not drown in it alone?_

_What if I said I would swim the tide with you, would you still leave me at the shore?_

_By the way,_

_Ditto._

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this was crappy aaah!
> 
> Sorry for the late upload, last week was C2E2 and that was where my time went. (I went as Hisoka, btw!) And it's hard to type with his long ridiculous claws…seriously…how does that clown do it?
> 
> Anyways, wanted to give you guys a bit of Killugon semi-fluff here for you all being so awesome.
> 
> Thank you all for the killer comments and such, and please leave any feedback you have.
> 
> Thank you, my friends.
> 
> -Bitchii-usa.
> 
> PS
> 
> Next chapter will have the meat and potatoes instead of this bowl of soup I served you ;p


	6. Six: Breathe

_**Six** _

_**Breathe** _

The ache in Gon's chest was threatening to swallow him whole.

He lay in his bed with his arms stretched out on the sides of his head, studying the cracks in the ceiling. He felt as if he were living in a void; his thoughts the only company in the madness of his feelings.

The mental punishment that he was serving himself did not relieve any of his stresses. _Why did I have to act out that way? In front of Killua, of all people?_ He closed his eyes and exhaled, the looming weight of the day's events hugged him tighter.

Gon hadn't expected the unraveling of his mental threads from the topic he received. He tried to bite down the words of the truth, instead attempting to resolve Killua's confusion with a lie.

That, of course, was a complete failure on his part.

Images abruptly intruded his mind, different memories that collided angrily and stacking on top of each other like playing cards. He saw nothing but red behind his closed eyelids, each picture becoming more and more vivid of a ghost. He bit his bottom row of teeth harshly as hot liquid seeped into the corners of his eyes. They threatened to run down his cheeks, a mockery to the impenetrable fortress he was pretending to be. He wiped his face quickly, his lashes gently pricking the bottom of his eye, and took a deep breath to swallow down any more tears. He wasn't sure why today was a day where everything hurt, but the ribbon of sadness tangled around him, suffocating his sense of logic.

_What was so important, that you would throw me in the river to drown?_

His mind breathed the words to life without his consent, the bitterness behind them dirtying his tongue. He sat up scowling, irritated that he was letting himself fall so deeply in the rabbit hole, when he had moved heaven and hell to pull himself out before.

A folded piece of paper cascaded to the floor, settling in front of Gon's toes. He picked it up and cradled it in between his fingers, remembering that Killua had given it to him earlier.

He impatiently opened it, pupils darting to every word written.

If you could taste the words that entered your mind, Gon would compare the note to a sweet melon.

He read them over again slowly, letting the message dance with the air in his chest to a waltz. Gon wasn't expecting the weight of the words to fill his belly to satisfaction. Then again, he wasn't expecting Killua.

He pulled out his cell phone, thumb on auto pilot as it hovered over Killua's name. Gon breathed out a wave of anxiety as the line rang in his ear. He licked his upper lip, mapping out a conversation that hadn't even started yet.

"Hello?" Killua's milky voice sent of bells in Gon's stomach, his mouth curving into a gleeful smile.

"Hey, Killua!"

"Gon. Are you feeling better? I waited for you after class, I was pretty worried."

"Yeah," Gon slapped the side of his head in irritation. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Killua worry because he couldn't keep it together. "I'm okay now, I just had to recuperate, that's all."

"Gon," Killua's voice fell flat and Gon didn't need to be in front of him to know that he would give him a serious glare. "What was that back there? And please don't give me a half assed response."

Gon sucked in a breath of air, the coconut from Mito's candle warmer mingling with his taste buds. "It's nothing, Killua, really. Just some old stupid thing that I shouldn't even be thinking about. Please don't worry about me."

"It isn't stupid if it made you emotional like that."

"Maybe, but trust me it's just an emo Gon thing. It'd do me no good to bring it up, y'know?"

Gon could taste the disappointment through Killua's hard sigh in the phone. He didn't want to leave Killua out of whatever the hell roamed through his mind, but it was a part of his nature now.

"Gon, did you read the note?"

"Yeah actually," the smile stole Gon's face back as he twiddled the note in between his thumb and index. Gon marinated over the words, letting them snuggle into his cheek so that he could taste them again. "That was the reason for my call. I hear you, Killua."

"Do you?" The accusation in Killua's words caused him to swallow the rest of his lie down. Killua could see through his bullshit even if Gon wanted to pretend that he was being transparent. "Because if you really did, why are you still lying to me?"

"I'm not lying, Killua. Some things are better not explained, that's all."

"Fine."

There was a tense silence that slept between them, with each side not sure what to say to the other. Gon ran his finger down the side of his face in dramatics, not expecting the call to take this turn. He pressed his lips together so that he can prevent the wrong words from spilling out. It isn't long before he can hear another sigh tickling his ear buds.

"What are you doing next Thursday, Gon?"

"Nothing but school."

"Good, then I have something for us to do, although I can't promise it'll be anything worthwhile."

"Sure!" The change of subject lifted the weight that was buried in Gon's chest. He was happy for the ability to breathe without restriction again. "What will we be doing?"

"My family will be having a dinner party. Some important people will be there, which means it will be long and boring. I'm sure my mother has some underlying plan to set me up with her colleague's daughter, but I am in no way interested. Figured you could come and keep me company, at least I won't feel like I'm suffocating from cologne and fancy wine all night. Plus, it'd give me the chance to show you something about me."

"Oh? What is it?"

"It's a surprise, idiot." Killua's baritone tickled Gon's ear drum as he laughed, causing a chill to curl down his spine. "If I told you now it wouldn't be much of an impact."

"Okay, sounds fair. Should I change first? I assume fancy wine means I should dress up."

"Yeah, that would be best. These people can be pretty snotty about clothes and appearances. I'll text you the address and time later on tonight."

"Okay. Hey, Killua?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For the note, that is. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm being difficult."

"We're friends right? Then that means that you don't need to thank me, I'm just doing what I feel is right. And don't worry too much about it. Can you just promise me something?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause on the end of the receiver. Gon had to look down at the phone screen to make sure that he was still connected. "Promise me," Killua's voice broke through, "that if you feel that heavy again, that you'll talk to me about it. I don't like to see you like that."

Gon stopped breathing for a small second, wondering if he could hold himself to such a promise. It was easier before Killua; only letting people see what he had to offer on the surface. But Killua demanded to see the raw, angry brush strokes of Gon's soul, and not some perfectly crafted masterpiece.

"I promise that I'll try, Killua."

Gon closed his eyes, the ghost behind the black void taunting him about the confidence behind his words.

* * *

Killua wasn't sure how any of the Zoldyks could breathe under the weight of Kikyo.

On nights when she hosted political dinners, Kikyo ran throughout the house in a manic frenzy. Tidying this, fixing that, making sure her children weren't too far from her puppeteer string. She would go as far as to lick her thumb and clean their faces like they were infants. Killua sometimes wondered if she were crazy enough to try to nurse them again.

He stared at the black suit that Gotoh steam pressed for him and laid out on his bed. The tag had a hard to pronounce French boutique name, possibly one of Silva's personal requests. His stomach churned at the sight of the jester attire he was supposed to adorn - he even checked the pockets for a list of things he could and could not say.

He left his room and descended down the spiral stairs. Milluki and Kalluto sat in the kitchen, with Milluki making a snack that could have served as a full meal. Kalluto's curious face darted between the two sandwiches and soup he bustled about crafting. Killua leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow at his brother's gluttony.

"Geeze, Milluki, you do realize that you're going to have a full smorgasbord of food in a few hours, right?"

Milluka looked up from his sandwich concoction, mayonnaise dripping from his butter knife and on to the counter. Kalluto turned his nose up at the sound it made when it plopped down. Milluki scoffed and removed it with a napkin.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I don't plan on eating anything at the party. I think it's best to rub elbows with the elites tonight. I've been head of the IT engineers on the council for a year now and no one seems to know who I am."

Killua rolled his eyes at his brother's trained command. He glanced over his brother, trying to locate his ears and tail. Killua clapped his hands slowly, the sounds causing Kalluto to turn around and smile at him coyly. "Bravo, brother. If I closed my eyes, I might get you confused for Mother. Our parents would be so proud of your parrot skills."

Milluki cut his eyes at Killua, mentally branding him with several flaming arrows like the ones he played on his video game moments before. "Fuck you, Killua. At least I'm not on Mother's shit list _again_. She was up all night again talking with Father about you. I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to kick you out of the family for good with all of the trouble you cause."

"Oh please don't threaten me with a good time."

"Hmph," Milluki went back to his sandwich, his tongue sliding across his upper lip at the anticipated taste. "Well if you aren't too worried about it, then I guess it's not a threat to you. But you know how Mother is. She has no problem _rearranging_ what doesn't fit into the mold of an ideal Zoldyk."

"Watch yourself, Milluki. Those are fighting words and you know it."

"What?" Milluka waved his knife in the air as he raised his hands like a white flag. "I'm not trying to be a dick about it; I'm only saying that if it happened once it can happen again."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kalluto scratched his head, confusion darting around his purple irises. "I hate when everyone leaves me out of the conversation."

"That's because you're still in a place where ignorance is bliss, Kalluto," Killua walked over to his youngest brother and put his hands on his shoulders. He wished that Kikyo hadn't made it her mission to wear Kalluto around her finger as another ring, but no amount of persuasion could help the teen now. Kikyo treated Kalluto like he was her precious doll, one that she could mold to fix the mistakes of her other children. "For now, anyways."

"Ignorance isn't bliss," Kalluto dropped his shoulders and turned around to face Killua, "it's actually quite annoying."

"Everything doesn't require an answer right away, sweet brother."

Killua swallowed the anxious irritation that climbed his neck, latching on to the walls of his throat. He gripped the back of Kalluto's chair, not bothering to turn around and face the new company.

"Good afternoon, Illuni," Kalluto smiled warmly at his brother. In Kalluto's sugary corrupted mind, Illumi was the golden star of the Zoldyk tree; only Kikyo and Silva shined as bright in comparison.

Illumi waltzed over to Kalluto and placed a hand on the top of his head, patting gently. Killua scrunched his nose at the way Illumi looked at Kalluto as if he were a family pet.

"Good afternoon to you, Kalluto. How were your studies today? Father tells me that you have a debate tournament coming soon."

"Yes!" Kalluto's face beamed the way it did when he had impressed Kikyo. He was brightening his halo to appease the Devil; Killua only hoped that Illumi didn't scorch him alive when he was done. "I've been told that I'm the best on the team. Everyone's pretty impressed, considering that I'm the youngest."

Illumi pet his head again, letting a long icicle of a finger twirl Kalluto's black tendrils around the tip. "I don't expect any less from a Zoldyk. In a few years, you'll be able to take your chair on our council. Father believes that we are the most talented Zoldyks to grace Kukurro in years." Illumi shot a look over at Killua, his eyes replicating the midnight sky. "I'm sure you're excited for your chair too, Killua?"

Killua had to bite back the urge to spit at Illumi's feet. Illumi was a walking disease, one that infected Killua every time their eyes made contact. He turned on his heels to the door before his other side infiltrated his body. _He's not worth it, Killua. He's not worth it, Killua. He's not worth it, Kil-_

"Kil!"

The soles on Killua's gym shoes squeaked as he ceased his walking. He looked over his shoulder, Illumi's hair consuming his view.

"No matter how hard you try to make yourself the outsider, you are a Zoldyk. And part of being a Zoldyk means that you have responsibilities and obligations. You will take your seat next term; this is a duty that we were destined with since we were children. The faster you accept this, the easier it will be. Why go through so much to upset Mother, Father and myself?"

Killua spun on his heel, his fists clenched tightly with anger. His eyes were unsettled, irises dancing madly. A hot current electrified his body as his breathing rapidly increased.

"Illumi," he spat, words curling out of his mouth like weeds, "if you think that I will take advice from _you_ about family duties, then you are more fucked up then I would have imagined."

Illumi placed a finger under his chin and pouted. "You don't really mean to be that cruel, do you Kil?"

"What's wrong with you!?" Killua was shouting now, his hands tightly clutching either side of his temple. "How can you stand there and act oblivious like you're _so_ fucking innocent!? Illumi, you are _psychotic_ and you're too far gone to even see it anymore!"

Illumi's eyes squinted dangerously, giving Killua a first glance into hell. Even Kalluto seemed to wince back from his presence, instead turning around to the counter top, pretending to trace the lines in the sleek marble finish.

"Killua," Illumi's voice plummeted several octaves, a hollow and abysmal tone, "I am trying to be nice to you, as I understand that you have some weird fascination with that _thing._ But if you think I will tolerate you speaking to me that way, then you are the one that's _fucked_. How long do you plan to accuse me of doing something wrong?"

Killua would rather have had Illumi carve out his heart and wear it around his neck. He would sit patiently through any family dinner that Kikyo requested. Any torture would be less painful than the words that escaped Illumi's lips.

"Illumi, as long as I breathe, I will never let you forget what a _monster_ you are. Everyone else may act like they've forgotten, but I am waiting on the day when you cut yourself down with your own sword." Killua turned to leave again before Illumi could break him down further.

"I do everything for family, Kil. Can you say the same?"

Killua let his silence blanket the room, not caring if Illumi was smothered to unconsciousness by its thickness.

* * *

Gon knew that Killua lived far from Yorkshin, but he never expected him to live on _this_ moutnain _._

Kukuroo Mountain was notorious for two things: Its population of the rich and elite, and its successful government system.

Gon had always heard Mito talk about how Kukuroo Mountain was full of snobby, rich people who never left because of the laws and peace that accompanied the area. Yorkshin was a bustle of different backgrounds and people, cultures marrying together in a city that celebrated difference. It wasn't perfect; a fair share of crimes and cases of poverty slept within its lines. But Kukuroo was obliviously happy, with its laws benefiting the rich and not making room for the poor. He didn't know too much about the area outside of that; Kukuroo was not a place that opened its doors for anyone to visit.

Gon stood outside of the gate at the base of the mountain as a security guard looked at him suspiciously. Gon tilted his head back and began counting the stars that painted the sky above. He texted Killua letting him know of his arrival, anticipation slithering in chest like a snake.

He changed three times before arriving, using Mito as his personal fashion guru. Gon wasn't the suit-and-tie kind of guy; his idea of suave involved matching bow ties and suspenders.

Mito plucked and prodded through Gon's clothes until she created what she called a head turning outfit. Gon winced as he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror, the unfamiliarity of it all choking the back of his throat. Mito had gone so far as to slick Gon's thick mane down into a coif, instantly transforming the teen into a work of art.

At least, that's what ran through Killua's mind when he approached the gate.

A breath caught in his chest as he looked over the muscular brute in front of him. Gon looked _too_ well for the part and Killua mentally sustained himself from making an inappropriate comment.

"Wow, you sure clean up nicely." He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his blazer, feeling around for the comfort of his marble.

Gon looked down, soaking all of his appearance in. Mito said that he could get whatever his heart desired in that suit, and he only hoped that she was right.

"I didn't know how fancy was too fancy, but when you told me you lived on Kukuroo…" Gon's voice trailed as his intricate lights swayed in his vision. Houses that could double as castles set menacingly in the road in front of him, each one questioning his validity of being there. Gon clenched the nervousness in his fists, burying it deep in his pocket so that Killua wouldn't notice. "I can't believe you _actually_ live here."

"Eh, it's not that great," Killua shrugged his shoulders, "just a bunch of people who only care about money and politics. Not my scene, honestly."

"Yeah it doesn't fit you," Gon looked down at the gravel under his feet as they walked. He wanted the sun to rise so he could confirm if it was gold. "You seem like you would live in downtown Yorkshin and drink coffee with unique flavors."

"And eat really good spaghetti from small cafes and sketch out animals in parks," Killua chuckled, a light breeze dancing through his hair. Gon inhaled the scent of fresh cotton and light cologne. "I feel like you're just describing yourself."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean that you couldn't join me."

Killua glanced over at Gon, words getting caught in a tangle in his teeth. Gon just had that effect on him - he seemed to lose the most simplest of mobility skills.

"Well, this is my house right here," Killua pointed to their left, ignoring an awestricken Gon.

"You live _here_? What does your family do for a living, Killua?" The Zoldyks had a disgustingly massive estate. The lawn had intricately cut bush designs, with waterfalls and fountains. A vintage wrap around porch was adorned with rocking chairs and swings, and wind chimes sang softly in the night. A classical composition seduced Gon's ear, inviting his attention to the hauntingly red door. Killua walked on ahead, not wanting to discuss the house of terror that lay in front of their feet.

"I suppose, I should warn you about that, actually. What do you know about the Kukuroo Council?"

Gon played with his chin; Killua thought he would make a nice addition to the fine art pieces in his home. "I know that they're responsible for keeping Kukuroo the prestige place it is. And I've heard they're all very powerful and rich. A lot of people look up to them, according to my Aunt Mito."

Killua lowered his head, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "They've been around for decades, actually. You see, there was once a time when Kukuroo was terribly governed, and most of the residents lost most - if not all- of their money to the dictator at the time. A man decided to overthrow him with democracy, promising that he could help Kukuroo thrive again. So he made some investments with some up and coming firms, and boosted Kukurro's economy by millions. Since then, his descendants have all taken their parts in council seats, and the people always vote for their family members because of their inexplicable charm."

"Yeah, I think I heard something about that. But if this family is so lucrative, why has no one really ever seen them?"

"Kukurro is a place that appreciates privacy. To be honest, you won't find much information about any of the residents that live here; most of them are underhanded mob bosses who come to live off of their fortunes. And because the council keeps cash flowing in with its investments, many of them don't want to add outsiders to the mix in fear of losing money. It's all quite pathetic, actually." Killua inhaled deeply. Gon was hooked on to his every word, a fish prepared to be reeled in. "And have you ever heard of the name of the council family?"  
"Nope, can't say that I have. All I know is what I've told you."

"Zoldyk." He turned to face the front door, his pale hand clashing against the bloody colored wood. "My family _is_ the council, and tonight is a party to celebrate another year of their accomplishments."

Gon burrowed his eyebrows together in confusion. The Killua that he talked to everyday, the Killua who didn't seem to appreciate the spotlight, _this_ Killua was the son of the highly talked about council of Kukuroo?

"I would've never guessed, Killua. Why didn't you ever say anything? Could you ever say anything?"

Killua pushed the door open as the classical musical surrounded them both, the sounds of a violin snuggling comfortably in the crevices of their skin. He looked briefly over his shoulder before reaching out a palm towards Gon. "Because that's a world that I don't think you're ready for. But tonight, I'll make sure I won't let you get caught up in their tornado."

* * *

Gon took in the atmosphere of how the _other_ side lived.

The carpeting inside of the Zoldyk mansion was a velvet cream that sank beneath Gon's shoes. He could tell that it was the plush softness of a blanket, which made him wonder if anyone bothered to sleep in actual beds.

Art pieces hung on the walls and sculptures were scattered throughout. Their quality threatened anyone who came too close so he decided to admire from afar. The art seemed like it was merely there for decoration and Gon wondered what Kurapika would say if he saw pointless artwork. Even still, it was minor in detail to the construction of the home.

The ceiling did not exist, rather calling it that was an insult to architect's vision. It was a cathedral style roof, tiny gods and goddesses protruding to life in the cream paint, and they all appeared to be angrily looking down at the patrons below. Gon spotted Zeus sitting directly in the center of it all, hands clasping around the chandelier. It was such an intricate art that Gon felt unworthy of gazing on it at all.

Killua turned around and watched Gon lose himself in the vicinity. He smiled warmly, catching the irony at hand.

_If only he knew that's how others look at him._

"Master Killua," Gotoh appeared in front of the two, carrying a tray with two empty glasses. "Lady Kikyo was looking for you, apparently your mother and father will be making a speech soon that they want all of the Zoldyk children present for. Is everything alright?"

Killua scoffed under his breath, catching insulting phrases in his mouth and tossing it under his tongue. "All of the children, huh? I'm not sure if that's possible, Gotoh."

"Master Killua," Gotoh's voice deepened to a whisper, a desperation in his tone milking through, "Please don't make this any more difficult for me. I've already had to face the wrath of your parents from letting me slip through in the first place."

"Relax, Gotoh," Killua sighed, gesturing to Gon behind him, "I just went out to get my friend, that's all. This is Gon, by the way. Gon, this is our family butler Gotoh."

Gotoh bent over in a hurried fashion, stern eyes never leaving Killua's. He pushed his glasses on the top of his nose and dipped close to Killua's ear.

"Master Killua, just what is it that you're trying to _do_?"

* * *

Killua wondered if his mother had a closet of personalities that she wore to suit the occasion.

He watched her glide to and fro around the attendees, laughing and pouring wine and complimenting people on their attires she would bash in secret later. She was almost unrecognizable as she shuffled past him, touching his shoulder lightly.

"Killua," she sang, her teeth frozen in a porcelain smile, "The daughter of the Piquot's has been asking about our handsome son all evening." She pointed her perfectly painted nail at a young lady standing near their fire place, drinking a glass of wine. Her long, silky red hair bounced around as she mingled with an older woman. She looked perfectly relaxed in her mannerisms, and occasionally Killua would see green irises dart in his direction, a playful flirtatious smile stealing her mouth. "Surely it would do you well to go introduce yourself; you know how much the Piquot's invest every year."

"I'm not here for you to play matchmaker, Mother." Killua took a long sigh, dropping his shoulder from his mother's claws. It felt like she was never going to let go so that she could parade Killua around like an auctioneer. "I don't even want to think about that right now."

"Killua," Kikyo's smile was stuck in place as she clenched her teeth; her eyes scanned the room to maintain her humility through her anger. "This is a very important opportunity. You should very much be considering finding someone to settle down with, high school is almost over for you. And since you'll be replacing your Father's seat when he retires, you'll need an heir. And Rozlyn," she pointed back in the direction of the red head, who was chewing her bottom lip while staring at Killua, "is more than a suitable contender. She's a beauty, she's submissive from what her mother tells me, and she's set to inherit her family fortune _if_ she gets married and has a son. Your child will have the best of both worlds, Killua."

"Mother," Killua stepped away from his mother, turning his back to the crowd, "does it ever disgust you how you treat your children like we're investments?"

"I don't know Killua, maybe you should ask yourself that the next time you lie in that five thousand dollar bed I bought you."

"Money isn't everything, Mother."

"Look around you, Killua," Kikyo's smile had long since dissipated as she furiously looked into her son's eyes. "Money is the reason why any of this is possible. Money gave us our family name."

"Money is also the reason why my sister can't benefit from that name."

Kikyo looked around the room to see if anyone had heard him say that. She opened her mouth to scold Killua, her anger beating against her skin and threatening to explode, when a tanned teenager appeared behind him, stuffing his face with shrimp.

"Hey, Killua! This food is pretty good!"

"Kil," Kikyo could not take her eyes off of the unknown guest that hid in her son's shadows. "Who is this?"

Killua's smile took on a life of its own, curving into a dangerous smile to mock his mother. "This is a good friend of mine, Mother."

"A good friend? And just how did he know about tonight?"

"Well that's simple," Killua folded his arms across his chest, a challenge. "I invited him."

"You invi….Killua." Kikyo clenched her chest as if someone vacuumed the air from her lungs. If Silva was present, she would dramatically fall into his arms. "You would invite someone without discussing with me or your Father first?"

"Don't see the big deal, who else would I have to talk with?"

Gotoh maneuvered through several guests, putting his hand on Kikyo's shoulder. He looked at Killua at the fire that he ignited, and he hoped that he could extinguish it before she burned down the lot of them.

"Lady Kikyo, I believe Master Silva is ready for the speech. He's asked me to get you."

Kikyo nodded at Gotoh, her eyes never leaving the ocean blue ones in front of her. "You should make your way to the front room, Killua. You wouldn't want to miss this speech."

* * *

Killua found it sickening the way people hung onto his parents every words as if they were gods.

Silva's white blonde waves of hair bounced off the lights that hung high over his head, an arm tucked under the curve of his wife's side. Kikyo played the part of a council woman perfectly, but it was her part of the loving wife that should have won her an award.

She placed an palm on Silva's shoulder, and gazed at his cheek lovingly. Milluki and Kalluto stood not too far from them, with Milluki looking over at the trays of food with sadness. Killua had to admit- he'd been doing a good job of not pigging out as normal.

Illumi stood on the right of his father, his darkness contrasting with the picture perfect light that his parents spent time evolving. His face was expressionless, and no one seemed to notice his intense glare towards Killua and Gon. Killua glared harshly back, knowing Illumi wouldn't dare act out with so many people present.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight," Silva took a sip of his wine and sat it on the mantle behind him. "This year was another success for Kukuroo, with an estimate of 8.2 million dollars of investments that poured in." The round of applause was almost immediate following that projection. The people respected Silva and company for their sense of business and politics, their picturesque family scene, and most importantly, the cold hard cash that never ceased to pile in.

"Of course, none of this wouldn't be possible if it wasn't for my son. He's only been with the council for a few short years, but I've never seen someone have such a keen eye for the almighty dollar like him. He knows how to pick through the real seeds, and watching him water them to flourish, well that just makes me proud as a council man and as a father. So please, ladies and gentlemen, give a round of applause for my son, Illumi Zoldyk."

The applause went off without a hitch again, droning out the room from any other noise. Killua slapped a palm over one of his ears to reduce the volume, but the loudness broke through the slivers in between his fingers like light.

Killua felt the contents of his food climb the ladder in his throat as he watched his brother take center stage. Eyes were glued to Illumi's daunting presence and handsome mystery; Killua wondered what stares Illumi would get if the truth were to come out.

Illumi bathed in the glory, a small smile poking through his otherwise stale face. He raised his glass in the air, declaring a toast. "Thank you Father for those kind words. To the good people of Kukuroo, I want you to know that I would not and could not be standing here today if it wasn't for your belief in the Zoldyk name. You all chose to vote for me to take the seat, and it's an honor to be able to repay back the gratification where it helps the most: your pockets."

The uproar continued, the talk of money exciting everyone to the core. Illumi had a presence that made his words transform into liquid gold; the vocal Midas, Silva called him.

"Please, you all are far too kind. It's been nothing but my pleasure to have guided Kukurro into another promising fiscal term, and I promise you that nothing will change on that forefront. In fact, I give you my word that it will only get better. As you all know, right now I am the only Zoldyk child who sits on the council. Many of you may have met my brother, Milluki, who takes care of all of the security and engineering on our fine mountain. But there has yet to be anything quite like what will soon take place. For you see," Illumi tilted his wine glass to the back of the room, towards Killua's location, "My younger brother will be taking seat next term, if you all will allow it. He's a visionary, and at the Kukurro Charter Program, he instantly rose to success as a national debate champion. That feat, to remind you fine people, was only once accomplished in Kukurro by my father. It's an honor even I couldn't hold, but I couldn't be more proud of the man that he's turning into. And I know that you all will be more than happy with his handsome face on our council. What's even more exciting- won't you come up here darling?"

Killua swallowed the heaves in his chest from frustration. Without his consent, his parents and Illumi orchestrated his run for council seat. To make matters worse, Illumi was now helping a petite red head on the elevated floor where he stood. She turned around to face the crowd and smiled tenderly, green eyes directed at Killua.

"Rozlyn Piquot, the heir to Piquot Industries that produces the beautiful diamonds that adorn your necks and wrists, and my brother have entered into a relationship. I wanted my brother to break the news, but I'm so excited for his betrothed that I had no choice but to spoil it. Our families have been in talks, and it seems like a spring wedding is in order. A Piquot and a Zoldyk; the world is a magical place, isn't it?"

Killua had to reach out and touch Gon's hand for a sense of familiarity. Gon's eyes darted back and forth between the stage and Killua, his stomach twisting and turning into violent knots. He squeezed Killua's hand, blue eyes wildly expanding before him. "Killua," he whispered, "is this true?"

"No," Killua spat, his tongue burning from the acidity of his words, "this is all bullshit. He thinks he has me trapped."

"So everyone, please give a friendly toast and welcome to your future Kukuroo President, and the husband of this beautiful little lady on my side, my little brother, Killua Zoldyk!"

Killua held his breath in frustration as the crowd turned to face him. Kikyo had a smug grin on her face as she clapped slowly along. Silva sipped out of his wine glass, his eyes cold and hard, threatening Killua to take the floor. Milluki and Kalluto looked confused, and Milluki seemed to break his resolve as he inched closer and closer to the buffet.

Killua's shoes turned to brick, the only weight keeping him up was Gon's hand. Kikyo's lips tightened to a strict line as she waited for her son to move. The clapping decreased as Killua remained glued to the floor.

"Killua," Gon whispered to his side, a lump forming in his throat. "Are you going to go up there?"

"Kil," Illumi smiled mischievously as he spun Rozlyn around, "don't you want to come gather your fiancé before I take her as my own?"

Killua found the nerve that hid itself in his pockets. He walked towards the stage as the applause started again, his eyes locked into Illumi's pits. He had to remind himself to breathe, all to keep from committing murder.

He ignored Rozlyn, instead taking the mic swiftly from Illumi's hands. He brought it close to his mouth with restraint. "Thank you all. I don't deserve the words that my brother has spoken of me. I hope you all enjoy the rest of your evening." He slammed the mic back into Illumi's chest, knocking him backwards a bit. He jumped off of the stage and bee lined through the crowd.

"Kil," Illumi sang back into the microphone, voice of honey and tea, "Is that all you have to say to our wonderful guests?"

Killua's feet dragged towards Gon, scooping the teen's wrists in between his hands. He took a moment to admire how perfectly it fit in the pocket of his flesh. "Gon," he hushed, "let's go outside."

"Kil?" Illumi watched his brother take the bronzed teen towards the balcony. A wind of anger whipped through his stomach, but he quieted it with a warm smile that emerged on his face.

"Hmph, I think our darling Killua has a case of stage fright."

* * *

The breezes at night were always Gon's favorite.

Things seemed to exist differently at night, almost as if one could morph into the being they needed to be.

Killua's skin was kissed to perfection under the luminosity under the moon; silver streaks of hair that looked like they came from the surface of celestial sphere.

Killua was hunched over the railing of the balcony in their backyard. Gon supported his back against the cool surface of stone, trying to find the words to give Killua some comfort. But when he snatched back his palm from his hair, he came up empty.

The silence that blanketed between them seemed faulty, with both parties wanting to liquefy the ice with conversation. Killua took a deep breath, bringing his head up to meet Gon's eyes. Even against the inked scenery, Gon's irises were still warm enough to melt Killua's nerves.

"I'm sorry I brought you here. I knew it would be terrible, but I didn't know it would be _this_ terrible."

"Mmnn," Gon shook his head, tilting it downwards and flashing Killua a smile. "I'm glad you invited me. Besides, could you have handled this completely alone?"

"I've done it before, but I must admit having someone I actually _like_ here does make it easier."

Gon closed his eyes and grinned to his ears. Killua couldn't help but to return the smile, momentarily forgetting his current problems. "I'm glad to hear that, Killua." The way that Gon said his name was poetic. Killua wanted to embed it into his brain so he could have something to listen to late at night. "Your brother, Illumi? He's not a good guy, is he?"

"No, he's literally the worst. And yet everyone kisses his ass like he's some sort of prince. It all just makes me nauseous."

"You don't seem like them at all, Killua."

Killua held on to that sentence for what seemed like forever, playing it over and over in his mind. "You think so?"  
"Of course! The fact that you think otherwise is puzzling to me. I'm sorry if this comes across as offensive, but they all seem so secretive, and not in a good way. Listening to them talk doesn't seem very genuine. You're not that kind of person, and you should never think that anyways."

Killua leaned back over the railing, playing with one of the flowers in the pot next to him. He fought the urge to pluck one and give it to Gon. He threw that idea away in his mental garbage.

"Thank you, Gon. You know how to make me feel better."

"I can say the same for you, Killua. I'm really glad to have met you. I don't know what I would do if you weren't around."

Killua looked up at honey eyes, lingering on them for longer than he planned. He didn't notice when he moved closer, but his thigh was bumping against Gon's. Gon had apparently forgotten how to breathe at the contact, face flustered as Killua rose to meet him face to face. He didn't move from the position, and he didn't know if he wanted to.

Killua's face was inches from Gon's, he could pretty much taste the woodsy cologne that was dabbed on the teen's neck. He wanted to reach out and taste it, taste Gon, taste freedom from inhibition.

"Gon," Killua almost didn't recognize the voice as his, a low and musky tone that escaped his lips. "I should say those words to you."

Gon swallowed hard, wondering if Killua could hear how fast his heart was beating. Killua's nose was almost touching his own; he could feel his breath on his bottom lip. "Then why don't you, Killua?"

"I should…."

Killua's palm found itself at the base of Gon's chin, lessening the gap between them. He wasn't sure if this was a two way street, but Gon wasn't stopping him. Initially, he wanted to see how far he could go before Gon brought his sense back into his head. But as pale lips nudged against bronze ones, he realized that he had long crossed that line.

Killua closed his lips around Gon's bottom, tasting the sweetness that lingered on his skin. Gon tasted exactly the way he thought about at night.

He let his lips remain in the same spot for a while, mentally surprised that Gon hadn't broken away yet. Gon pressed back lightly, feeling the electric shock that radiated from Killua's lips. He breathed into Killua's mouth, attempting to taste the inside of Killua's teeth. Killua pulled back, his face clouded with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Gon. I shouldn't have just done that." Killua put his hand over his mouth, his fingers lightly touching where Gon's lips just were. _I just kissed Gon, I just kissed him randomly. Even I wasn't expecting that, I know he hates me, oh my god…_

"It's okay, Killua."

Gon's voice coddled Killua's insecurities, showering him in a blanket of light. "Really, I understand, you just got caught up in the moment."

Killua felt the contradicting temperatures of emotions that collided within. Gon seemed to dismiss the idea altogether about _why_ Killua had kissed him, which made it a lot easier. But it also proved that Gon just didn't feel the same way.

But he had kissed him back…

"Let's just forget that it happened, okay?"

Killua felt his stomach drop to his feet at Gon's words. _A kiss isn't like regretful words, Gon. You can't just take it back._

Instead, he replied, "Okay."

"Hey," Gon changed the subject, not completely grasping the severity of the situation. The kiss with Killua was _magical_ , unexpected and damn it all if it wasn't what he needed. But Gon's fear that Killua would take a bite from his fruit and spit it out when it didn't taste as sweet as he had hoped overpowered his lust. _I can't let that happen again. I don't know if I can bounce back this time._ "Remember when you told me you had to show me something? Think now is a good time?"

Killua regained his composure, brushing off the events until he could choke on his regret later. He had a promise to fulfill, and he wouldn't let the cloud of disappointment rain down on him later.

"Yes, now is more than perfect for me to show you. We'll have to sneak around a bit inside, but it'll all be worth it. I have someone that I want you to meet."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your continued support of this story, it means the world to me.
> 
> As always, I appreciate any and all feedback, good, bad or in between.
> 
> I'm not sure if this will be a long story or a short one, I suppose it depends on what all I have to say, and how I can get it out.
> 
> Right now I'm projecting 15 chapters, but that could be more or less.
> 
> Once again, thank you kind souls, and I'll see you all soon!
> 
> ~Bitchii-usa.


	7. Seven: Devil's Dance

_**Seven** _

_**Devil's Dance** _

Kikyo only knew one way to drown out her irritation. She gulped down her umpteenth glass of wine, shivering as the bitterness swirled around in her chest and landed in her stomach.

The conversations around the room drowned out as the familiarity of the poison began to consume her body. She knew that Killua would not be pleased with the announcement of his engagement, but she expected him to at least hold himself in the esteemed pride the way a Zoldyk would. Instead he had thrown a childish tantrum, storming out to the balcony with that _boy_.

She gritted her teeth in frustration, massaging her temple at the remembrance of it all. Silver white hair blocked her vision as her husband knelt in front of her. She gripped her knee, forcing her eyes to hazily follow his. Silva scrunched his nose at the intoxicating fumes that radiated from his wife's body.

"Kikyo, darling, how much have you had to drink?"

Kikyo chuckled, setting her glass down on the armrest of the chair and throwing her arms around his neck. She leaned in closer, adamant on corrupting Silva's sobriety with her tongue. Silva leaned back to escape the fumes, eyes darting around to see if her escapades had enticed an audience.

"Kikyo—"

"Sssh, my love." She placed a finger to his lips, cutting off the words that she didn't want to hear. "I don't want to talk right now about things like that."

"Kikyo, you wouldn't want to cause a scene."

"You mean other than the one that your son caused?" She released the grip on his neck and sat back in the chair, lips pursing with an attitude. "Honestly Silva, what is he thinking?"

"You knew the risks of springing something like that on him, Kikyo. I went along with it at your persistence, but you can't honestly tell me that you believed Killua would react any differently. He's always been his own person."

Kikyo narrowed her eyes at Silva's audacity. They had always been a team with a common goal: the success and legacy of the Zoldyk name. Illumi had more than done his part, and even if he had questionable actions, Kikyo knew that her beloved son only thought about what was best for the family. Milluki did just enough to gain the contentment of his parents, but Kikyo never saw him as anything more than a computer whiz that ate her out of house and home. The prized jewel, the one that she knew would wear his name with pride, had let her down in more ways than one. But she refused to release her iron grip around his shoulders, even if her weight caused him to deteriorate under her grasp.

She knew that Killua had a streak of rebellion, and she tried to quiet it by giving into his silly demand of attending a slum school so far away from home. Wasn't that enough?

Clearly Silva did not think so.

Then again, he had always had a soft spot for his doppelganger. She saw the way that his eyes beamed when she handed him his newborn son. His fingers had brushed through his soft silver tendrils, kissing the top of his forehead in appreciation. Kikyo knew that her genetics were strong; the obvious proof in her other children. Silva adored the fact that he had left his mark in the world in the magnificence of Killua. That notion had clouded his judgement in raising him for the past eighteen years, and Kikyo had hoped that he would snap out of his delusion sooner than later. Yet, here they sat, she in a concealed uproar and he in defense of her headache.

"Your excusing of his behavior," she slurred, motioning a butler for another drink, "will be his downfall, Silva."

"And it is your mockery of his free will," he shooed the butler away, "that will be yours."

* * *

Killua led Gon to the locked doors of the basement, mentally applauding himself for sneaking past the crowd unnoticed.

He stopped in front of the doors, placing a hand on the knob and sighing. He turned his head slightly, feeling honey eyes burning into the back of his neck.

"Gon," he dropped his hand, turning around to face him directly, "when we enter here, I know you will have a lot of questions for me. I will tell you right now that I can't answer them."

Gon raised an eyebrow at Killua's words. "O…kay. What is it exactly that you're showing me, Killua?"

Killua turned around in silence, fiddling in his pocket for the key. As the lock turned, Killua felt the acidity in his stomach swirl around like a tornado. He would let Gon discover the answer for himself.

Alluka sat in the far corner of the room, coloring in the book that Killua had gifted her. Her tongue stuck out in the corner of her mouth in concentration, making Killua chuckle at her resemblance of Gon. Her long hair sprawled over her arms, covering her like a second skin. She didn't notice the two occupants in the room as she scribbled away at the paper in a ribbon of colors.

"Alluka."

She turned swiftly around as she was broken from her trance, her blue eyes warm with recognition.

"Big Brother!"

She all but threw herself into Killua's arms, fitting perfectly into his mold. Killua squeezed her gently, letting her sweet smell infiltrate his nostrils. He released his grasp slightly, allowing her to get a view of Gon who stood close with curiosity.

"Who is this, Big Brother?"

Killua smiled down at her, releasing her fully from his encirclement. He stood to Gon's side, allowing her to get a full view of his brilliance.

"Do you remember the friend I told you about, Alluka?"

Alluka's face puzzled over their previous conversation as she tugged on her memory strands. Her face twisted into realization as she studied the teen.

"Big Brother!" Her mouth opened wide with happiness as she inched closer towards Gon. "You kept your promise!"

"I did." Killua shoved his hands in his pocket as he watched his sister familiarize herself with Gon. It was the equivalent of watching stars collide. "Now I believe you two should be properly introduced. Gon, this is my little sister Alluka. Alluka, this is my….good friend Gon." Killua struggled with the title to give Gon, his mind mingling over the memory of the recent kiss. The thought caused a pang of anxiety to surge through his spine, but he shook it off for something he could bathe in while he slept. It still bothered him that he had so daringly intruded Gon's mouth, and he hadn't come to terms if he fully regretted the action or not.

Gon extended his hand towards Alluka, flashing the dazzling smile that Killua had painted so many times in the memory of his mind. Alluka ignored the gesture, instead slamming into his chest with all of her weight. Gon did not budge as he wrapped his muscular arms around her small frame. They both appeared to be so comfortable in their meeting as if it was destined for them to. Killua could not swallow down the pride at the picturesque duo in front of him.

"Killua, I didn't know you had a sister."

Killua's smile dissipated at once, a regretful frown replacing the curve of his mouth. He parted his lips to reply, but Alluka interrupted before his words stole the silence.

"Big Brother doesn't like to spoil surprises. He promised me that I would have a chance to meet the friend that makes him smile. I can tell you're very special to him!"

Gon's eyes darted directly to Killua, swimming with an emotion that Killua couldn't call. Cherry stained his tanned cheeks, his mouth parted in a small circle.

"Oh!" Alluka released herself from his embrace and danced over to the table she was sitting at earlier. She picked up one of her crayons and compared it to the color in Gon's cheek. "Gon, I could color my picture with your face!"

Killua and Gon chuckled nervously, both feeling the heat rise in their cheeks. "Well I'm glad that he kept the promise after all, Alluka. I really like your bedroom; did you draw all of these yourself?" Gon pointed to the wall that was plastered with her artwork throughout the years, several pictures depicting a childlike version of herself and Killua. Gon noticed the absence of any of the other Zoldyk family members, although he thought he saw a tiny Kikyo under a gray cloud. Killua was right: Gon had several questions in regards to the strange keeping of his sister, and why Killua had never mentioned he _had_ a sister in the first place.

He knew his questions would not get answered, per the warning of Killua, so he swallowed down the confusion and focused on meeting the tiny human in front of him. But the remains of the unknown washed over his tongue like a thick liquid.

"Big Brother helped me with a lot of them over the years. He taught me to draw when I was smaller, but he always told me to keep it a secret. Mother doesn't approve of things like that. But I guess it doesn't matter much anymore what she approves of for me since I'm down here."

Killua coughed aggressively, forcing Alluka to look at him with a bashful face. She was as much aware as he that Gon shouldn't even be down here, and her very identity was one that was supposed to be under wraps. She couldn't stomach getting Killua into any sort of trouble and ruin the only chances of contact she received.

"Well between me and you," Gon bent down close to Alluka and covered his palm over the side of his face to impose a secret, "I think you're the better artist. You could teach him a thing or two."

Alluka giggled, her voice melting through Killua's anxiety. He chuckled in response before lightly patting Gon on the back.

"You say that now Freecs, but I'm sure you'll be asking me for tips in class very soon."

Gon placed his hand on the back of his head and stuck his tongue out in retaliation. Alluka surveyed the two, understanding the bond that brew between them. She was glad to see Killua happy in no regards to her, a consequence of her guilt.

"Say Gon," she reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him over to the couch that she lay on, "do you want to play a game with me?"

Gon allowed himself to be pulled in her direction, impressed with the whimsical creature. Alluka had an aura of magic that drew him in, and he was convinced that Killua had a damn good reason for not sharing her light with the world. "Sure. What kind of game?"

"It's called three favors." She put three fingers in the air to emphasize her words and pulled them down on the cushions to face each other. "I start off by giving you a command to do something, and if you do it you get to give me a command. If you can't do the command, then I get to command another one. The first person to get three failures is the loser."

Gon placed a finger on his chin in regards to the odd contest. Killua gulped.

"Alluka—"

"What does the winner get?" Gon interrupted Killua , "Do you just play this game for fun?"

"Gon I don't think this is such a good ide-"

"It's fun to see how far you're willing to go. And the winner gets a favor. So if you win, whatever you ask me to do I have to do it. Big Brother and I used to play this game all of the time."

"Alluka I really don't know if-"

"Okay, I'm game."

Killua felt as if someone threw a brick in his face, his forehead becoming increasingly hot. Alluka thought nothing of this childhood game they would play to pass the time, but Killua understood the trigger. And Gon, unbeknownst to him, was slowly providing the bullets.

"Alluka, I don't think that this is an appropriate game to play right now."

Alluka pouted, her blue eyes widening with disappointment. "But why Big Brother? Gon said he was alright to play."

"You know why, Alluka." Killua attempted to smooth his voice so as to not alarm her, but the panic slivered through like a snake. Alluka dropped her head in compliance, sadness taking over.

"Kay, Killua. We won't play."

Killua took in a shallow breath at her phrase, instantly recognizing what just happened. _She called me Killua. That only means that-_

"Are you alright, Alluka?" Gon's voice deepened with concern, his hand reaching over to touch hers. She shied away, her face still pointed down towards the cushions. She shook her head but stayed silent. Killua inhaled slowly, allowing the oxygen to calm him down to diffuse the situation. He stepped over to his sister and gently ran his hand down through her hair.

"Please don't be sad. You know that I love you too."

Her shoulders rose and fell to the tune of an unheard melody, but she didn't move from her position. Gon looked back and forth between the two, unanswered questions staining his tongue. Killua looked at him sadly, his eyes implying that there were many things that he couldn't say.

"Okay? Please don't be upset. I promise that we'll all be able to play together soon, but tonight wouldn't be a good night. I don't want to see you sad."

She sighed and wiped her nose. "Kay, Killua. Only if you promise."

"I do."

"I want to go to sleep Killua. I'm tired."

"I understand." Killua bent down and hugged her stiff body to his frame. Guilt washed over him, but he knew that this wasn't the best time to do exactly what she wanted to do. He kissed the side of her forehead, letting her use him as a pillow. "You can go to sleep, I'll be right here until you do. Please don't be mad at me. You'll get the chance to play with Gon too."

"Kay." She took another deep breath and relaxed in his arms, her head drooping to one side. Killua held her for a bit longer until he felt her entire body relax, a light snore escaping her mouth. He placed her down on the cushion and put a blanket on top of her. He was so worried about the game unraveling her threads that he hadn't guessed that he would be the one pulling the string.

He motioned for Gon to follow him back upstairs, his hands jamming in his pockets for the safe haven of his marble.

* * *

Illumi was becoming more and more uninterested in this party as the night dragged on.

Rozlyn had not left his side, perhaps in the wondering of where her betrothed had disappeared to. Illumi noticed the scraps of napkin that littered her lap like insects, a sign of her discomfort. He couldn't fully blame Killua for not being delighted at the news; Rozlyn seemed to be a bore. In the mere moments that he had spent with the red head, she had barely spoken more than a few words to him and he was ready to toss her to the side and find his brother. But he had promised his mother that he would be on his best behavior tonight, regardless of how Killua would accept the news.

Kikyo was once again gliding through the guests in her drunken demeanor, forcing Silva to follow behind her and make sure she didn't fall on her face. Milluki had broken his resolve and was currently stuffing his face with his third slice of cake. Illumi scoffed at the chocolate residue that lingered in the corners of his mouth, wondering how he could manage to disgrace himself so. Either way, Milluki was behaving in a much more mature way than Killua, and Illumi was….disappointed….for a lack of better words.

"Do you think he's going to come back?"

Illumi glanced over at Rozlyn, who was still fumbling with the mess of paper in her hands. He sighed and removed it, wincing at the dampness left behind by her nerves.

"He has no choice, darling. He knows better than to leave an event as important as this."

She glanced over at him, a glimmer of hope painting her irises. Illumi was disgusted at her desperation, a visual reminder that money could buy anything if given the right price.

"What if he doesn't like me, Illumi? He didn't look too happy when you made the announcement." She sat back in her chair and dropped her shoulders, creating an unflattering ensemble to an otherwise beautiful sculpture. Illumi gestured for her to sit up straight again, demonstrating by setting his own spine in resemblance to a needle.

"His happiness is not my concern. What is my concern is that he continues on the legacy that my father and grandfather left behind. As I said earlier, he has no other choice."

"But-"

"The only thing you need to concern yourself with," he turned around in his chair to face her directly, his threat coloring a darkened hue on his porcelain skin, "is to make sure that you do whatever it takes to give him an heir before he turns 21. I believe that is the time that your inheritance will expire, yes?"

She nodded her head slowly, disturbed that she was being seen as nothing more than a monetary gain. She remembered the first time that she had laid eyes on the silver haired fox when she was sixteen, and the proposition that Kikyo and her father had made was one that she saw too good to pass up. Killua's reaction, however, told her that her excitement was one sided, and Rozlyn wondered if she could ever hold the piece to the puzzle of the Zoldyk family.

"If he doesn't want you, I could marry you, I suppose. But I should warn you, I have no interest when it comes to love and relationships, rather I have no idea how they work. So it may perhaps be in your best interest to try to get my brother to understand, as he is more sensitive than I. Once you bore my son, I woudn't see much purpose for you afterwards."

Rozlyn's eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth agape. Illumi seemed so charming whenever she encountered him in prior conversations, but at this closeness, he made her timid. She focused her eyes at the floor, trying to scramble around the thoughts that collided in her head. But they jumbled together in a helix, and she decided it was best to not retaliate with Illumi.

Illumi scanned the room again, trying to see if his brother was finished with his tantrum. He spotted Killua reenter the room from the far left chambers, and Illumi felt heat circulate in his chest. There would only be one reason for Killua to be in _that_ corridor of their home.

"You stay here," he got out of his seat and fixed his tuxedo, his breathing becoming more rapid, "If I have to come and find you….well let's just say that you wouldn't like that very much, darling." He stepped down from the elevated floor, ceasing his walking to curve his neck back towards Rozlyn. "When I return, I shall have your fiancé in my company."

He floated through the drunken guests, ignoring their requests of small chatter. His tunnel vision haloed around Killua, and his friend that replaced his shadow.

"Kil," Illumi's voice was an unrecognizable depth of threat, and Killua stammered back at his overbearing presence. He regained his posture, the familiar look of repulsion pooling his face.

"Get away from me Illumi."

"Now, is that anyway to speak to your brother, Kil?" Illumi wasted no time in sizing up the bronzed brute following his brother, taking in his cheap threads and his awkward demeanor. "Why did you decide to come here tonight?"

Gon looked at Killua and Illumi, his response lodged in the center of his throat. Killua may have had the resolve to stand up to his brother, but Gon's knees buckled under Illumi's weight.

" _I_ invited him to come, not that it's any concern of yours."

"That disappoints me so very much, Kil. I would think you would have the decency, no, the common _sense_ to know how much of a bad idea that was." Illumi's eyes lingered over to the corridor that Killua and Gon came through, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. "You seem to be making _several_ bad decisions tonight, little brother. Why on earth would you take him to see that _thing_ downstairs?"

Killua's eyes reacted past his judgement, a deadly irritation seeping through. Gon felt as if Illumi had electrocuted him, stunning him in his place. He looked down to see Killua's fists gripping tightly, a light color of red staining his palm.

"Are you referring to your sister?!" Gon spoke the words before he could digest them, his disbelief outweighing his courtesy. "There's no way you could be that cruel to call your own sister a _thing_."

"Kil," Illumi pointed a long finger towards Gon, his eyes locked on Killua's, "the next time your _friend_ speaks to me without my consent, he won't like the outcome. You of all people know what I am capable of."

His words shot through Killua's chest, each syllable branding a bullet in his flesh. Killua stepped dangerously close to him, wrapping his hand around Illumi's wrist tightly. Illumi stared at the white flesh that circled his own, half impressed at his brother's growth in strength. He met Killua's eyes again, soaking in the cold ice that replaced his irises.

"If you _ever_ lay a finger on him, Illumi, then you will see what _I'm_ capable of."

Illumi gazed into the depth of Killua's danger and saw it was no idle threat. A sinister smile corrupted the corners of his mouth, realization swimming through.

"Aaah, now I see. Well, that explains the lack of concern for your fiancé. She is rather lonely over there, Kil."

"She is _not_ my fiancé, you bastard. You and mother can go to hell for all I care, but if you think that I would marry her because _you_ announced it to a bunch of drunken snobs, then you can go fuck yourself."

"Ouch, such language Kil. It's very unbefitting of a Zoldyk to be so crude. Either way, you have no choice but to marry her, especially now that I know your little secret."

"My little secret?"

Illumi's eyes dazzled over to Gon, who mirrored that murderous face that Killua wore. He looked at him up at down before redirecting his eyes back to Killua. "He is a handsome boy, I can see why you took such a keen interest in him. You've never been one for friends, Kil. I remember a time when you refused to make any friends at all, in fear of what they would uncover when they would get to know you. Does _this_ one know you very well yet?"

Killua's eyes widened, fully settling on Illumi's unspoken threat. Illumi chuckled in victory, knowing that Killua was back in the position that he had planned for him.

"There's a good boy. You know, it's funny how you always try to throw me under the bus for what _I_ did, when I was only helping. Can you say the same, Kil? I believe we have both danced with the Devil a few times."

"Shut up, Illumi." Killua gritted his teeth, chewing away the words that wanted to escape his oral prison. "You could never compare what you and I have done."

"Oh? I believe either way, the result would have been the same, don't you think?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ILLUMI!"

Killua's reaction quieted the room behind them, and Illumi shifted at the attention focused on them. Gon looked shocked, knowing there was something that he just wasn't getting. He placed a palm on Killua's shoulder in an attempt to calm him, and Killua placed his palm on top of his in recognition. Illumi looked on in anger, the obvious side his brother had chosen.

"Master Illumi, Master Killua." Gotoh appeared seemingly out of nowhere, his presence lifting the black cloud that lingered over the three. "Is everything all right?"

"No." Killua spoke almost immediately, his eyes targeting the black holes of Illumi's face. "And it won't be until Illumi is gone. Gotoh, please remove him from this property."

"Master Killua," Gotoh's voice was a plea, both in understanding and confusion, "you know that I cannot do that."

"If he isn't gone from this house in the next five minutes," Killua threatened, "then I will take the stage again, and I will tell everyone here what kind of _god_ Illumi is."

"Kil," Illumi felt the darkness dance in his chest again and he tried to labor his breathing to avoid a bigger confrontation than the one that they had already caused, "not only are you not thinking rationally, but that would also mean exposing your own demons."

"I don't care. I need you gone right now, Illumi. I don't trust what would happen if I left and you stayed."

"Master Killua," Gotoh pleaded, leveling his face to Killua's. Gotoh hadn't seen Killua _this_ angry in years, and the last time had proven very unpleasant for the young master. "I cannot remove an occupant from his own home. Not unless-"

"Gotoh."

Silva marched over to them, his presence exuding the velocity of his power. His face was hardened like cement, his blue eyes casting his verdict before his mouth could recite the words. "Please escort Illumi to his car. I believe everyone could use a bit of fresh air."

If betrayal had a taste, Illumi would compare it to the acidity of a fresh lemon. His tongue coiled over in the bitter aftertaste as he pushed it around his teeth. Looking into his father's eyes, he could see that he was not bluffing, the look reminiscent of Killua's only moments prior. Silva placed a hand on Illumi's shoulder, trying to let his fingers convey his message.

"Illumi, son, people are beginning to talk about what is going on over here. And it wouldn't be in the best interest if Killua were to leave with Rozlyn still in attendance." He brought out his wallet, handing Illumi one of his finer credit cards. "Go enjoy a night out son, on me."

"Father," Illumi's acidity curled out of his mouth and scorched a hole into Silva's face. Silva closed his eyes to prevent himself from reeling under the harsh undertone of his words. "Are you really doing this?"

"Illumi." Silva's voice no longer was a compromise, his tone barking a command to his eldest soldier. Illumi glared back at Silva for a brief moment before turning his gaze to Killua. He looked at his younger brother in rage, snatching the card and silently taking his exit before his wrath engulfed the Zoldyk estate in flames.

Silva sighed, neither relieved nor defeated by the unfolding events. "Killua, I believe you should escort your friend out as well. Some things should not be handled in front of others." Silva left no room for debate as he exited the area, leaving behind his judgment that gave little relief.

* * *

Killua scraped his teeth along his tongue, purposely leaving angry trails over its surface. Not even the light of Gon could illuminate his darkness, for Illumi had driven him so deeply inside of himself that he wasn't sure how to get back.

Gon occasionally glanced over at Killua, his words sticking together until they formed a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow. Gon had a small indication of why Killua had never mentioned his family before, and although he wanted to ask Killua why, he knew the time wasn't of the essence.

The large gate shadowed in front of them, appearing more menacing due to the disastrous evening. Killua stood in front of it, his hands once again shoved in his pockets, eyes refusing to meet his friends. It had been only an hour ago that they shared an unwarranted kiss, and now Killua was afraid that he would drown Gon in his sea of uncertainty.

"I shouldn't have asked you to come tonight."

Gon glanced over at Killua, feeling the sorrow radiating from his body like an oven. Gon reached out to touch him, but Killua moved slightly so that his hand pushed down air.

"Killua-"

"Please. Don't try to make me feel better, at this point it would only make it worse."

Gon placed his arm back at his side, his heart dropping to his feet. He didn't know the words to give to Killua to alleviate his grief, and it seemed like the teen needed solidarity to completely recompose.

"I understand, Killua. I'll just see you at school tomorrow, okay?"

Killua nodded, his silence only causing the needles in Gon's heart to dive deeper in. Gon instinctively wrapped his body around him, hoping his warmth would speak the words that he chose not to say. Killua's stiff body relaxed slowly under his weight, a sigh dancing in Gon's ear.

"I'm sorry, Gon."

"Mmmnn, don't be. Just like you told me, I'm here for you." Gon's hand stroked Killua's back lightly, causing his body to stiffen again. Gon pulled back from the embrace, his honey irises infusing with electric blue. Killua's face looked so broken, and Gon wanted desperately to be the one to fix it.

Without warning, he pressed his lips to Killua's, this one softer and more electrifying than the first. Killua's lips melted under his own, the sweetness of his skin dancing over Gon's tongue. Gon had told himself that he needed time to dissect whatever was slowly brewing between them, but seeing Killua victimized had made him come to the realization that he _wanted_ to be the stability in his life, even if he was a storm of chaos himself.

Killua pressed his lips back on Gon's hesitantly, his tongue asking for permission to explore the inside of Gon's mouth. Gon graciously accepted, allowing Killua to lead his own pink snake into a waltz. He breathed into his mouth in desperation to dive in deeper, if it were possible, and felt relieved when Killua forced his body closer to his own. The kiss was spinning wildly out of control; hands becoming lost in hair and fingers occasionally caressing body parts. Killua felt the heat rush to his face as he lost himself in the essence of Gon. _I wanted this, I needed this._

Gon wanted to sink into Killua until he was nothing more than a wandering soul. Every time their lips touched, he felt awakened, as if he was made to be in this moment at this time. Gon never wrestled with the thought of his sexuality, allowing himself to gravitate to whatever was best for him. While it seemed easy enough, no one had held out a hand to his soul like Killua offered, and even if it scared him shitless, he did not have the energy to fight it any more.

 _I didn't know I needed this, but I want this_.

They pulled back after an eternity of being lost in the act, breathlessly staring at each other. Killua smiled, reaching out to smooth out the strands of Gon's hair. Gon chuckled in response, fixing the silver strands that danced in front of Killua's face.

"You look like a mess, Freecs."

"Yeah, I could say the same to you, Killua."

Killua placed another light kiss on Gon's lips before departing from his embrace. "I don't know what this is, Gon, but I hope I haven't scared you off."

Gon shook his head, nervously placing a palm on the back of his neck. He felt dizzy with different emotions, with lust being placed somewhere near the top. "No, I don't think you could. I don't know what this is either, but I do know that you're my best friend at the end of the day." Gon chewed his bottom lip, feeling like this was happening too fast and not fast enough. "Is it okay if I like it?"

"I would hope so."

"Good. Because I do, but I don't want to ruin anything either."

"We don't need labels, Gon. We can just, I don't know, _be._ "

Gon smiled, his light circling around Killua, convincing him that he wasn't standing under his father moon. "I like that, I don't think I've ever done that."

"Well, there's a first time for everything." Killua glanced back at the road in the direction of his house. "I should probably get back, my dad looked pretty serious."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to get you into trouble." Gon walked towards the gate, ignoring the gravitational pull that Killua unknowingly held. He didn't want to turn around and see the plea in Killua's eyes, begging him to stay. Then he would never leave, and that wouldn't be beneficial to either of them.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Gon counted down the hours until he went to school, another excuse to see Killua, another excuse to disassociate himself from his own troubles.

Killua watched him walk away, his anxiety returning with every step Gon took. Soon, he saw nothing but the remains of a presence that he still wanted to linger, and a frown corrupted his face and forced reality back into his brain.

_Gon,_

_I really hope you meant what you said. Because I won't be able to run from this anymore, and I'm afraid._

_I'm afraid that you'll get a glimpse of who I am and what I've done, and shatter the glass._

_And that would break me harder than anything._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY GUYS FOR MY DEPARTURE, I'VE JUST HAD LIFE TO DEAL WITH (AND UNFORTUNATELY SO MUCH OF IT )
> 
> BUT I'M BACK! AND THANK YOU TO EVERY SINGLE NEW FOLLOWER AND COMMENTER, YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA THE SMILE THAT STEALS MY FACE WHEN I SEE THE EMAILS AND NOTIFICATIONS. SERIOUSLY, IT MAKES MY ENTIRE DAY. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, AND I WILL ALWAYS TELL YOU THAT. I WILL TRY TO NEVER TAKE THAT LONG OF A BREAK AGAIN, AND TRY TO UPDATE MORE FREQUENTLY. ALSO I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS CHAPTER FOR THREE WEEKS NOW, (HIT A SNAG OF WRITER'S BLOCK) SO IM SORRY IF IT WASN'T GREAT GREAT, BUT I HAVE PLANS FOR NEXT CHAPTER TO BE MUCH BETTER (BUT A LITTLE KILLUGON NEVER HURT NOBODY ;) )
> 
> ANYWHO, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH AGAIN, AND I LOOK FORWARD TO HEARING WHATEVER IT IS YOU GUYS HAVE TO SAY!
> 
> UNTIL NEXT TIME, FRIENDS!
> 
> ~BITCHII-USA


	8. Eight: Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Warning: Underrage Drinking***

_**Eight** _

_**Family** _

For a split second, Killua had forgotten where he was.

The cold breeze through his cracked window danced on the back of his neck, playing with the hairs that subsisted there. He woke up instantly, hands covering the icy skin. He wiped the sleep crust out of his eye, making his way over to the window to cease the draft from disturbing him anymore. A yawn escaped his mouth as his mind recalled the last memory of the night prior.

 _Gon_.

Killua couldn't stop the smile that painted his face even if he had wanted to. To taste the fruit that had enticed him for so long was captivating; to know that it wasn't a one way street _delighted_ him. Even the rocky events of the party could not outweigh the warm, bronze lips that had stolen his, and  
Killua touched his mouth to make sure that it wasn't a cruel joke his subconscious played on him.

No, the heated remains of Gon's flesh still lingered behind; the sweet and saltiness of his tongue still slept between the spaces of his teeth. A warm tingle rocketed throughout Killua's belly, forcing him to lay on his back in a bubbled bliss. If time had stopped last night, under the brilliance of father moon, Killua would have no contest to its ceasing.

Killua sat upright instantaneously, a new inspiration coddling his mind. He smiled slyly; picturing how exactly he was planning on painting Gon for his project. He didn't need another two months to regurgitate what he already knew: Gon was light, and somehow, Killua would capture it to canvas.

He thrust his door open only to be met with Gotoh's fist, swinging with the intent to knock.

"Oh, Master Killua, I wasn't expecting you to open the door. My apologies."

Killua raised a palm in response, the urgency to get ready for his day outweighing his almost-injured-face encounter.

"'S okay, Gotoh, I know you'd never hit me. Do you mind, though? I'm kind of in a rush."

"Actually, Master Killua, you've been requested in the family hall."

Killua felt the idyllic ocean that swam inside of him flush out of his body. The family hall was only used for two things: family meetings and decoration. If Silva and Kikyo requested use of it for a family meeting, it usually meant that one of their children had royally messed up. Killua swallowed the lump in his throat at the memory of the last time he had stepped a foot inside.

"I suppose it has everything to do with last night, Gotoh, am I right?"

Gotoh's stoic face did not budge, but Killua could pluck the answer from the brief resolve that flashed through his irises. "You know I am not at liberty to say, Master Killua."

Killua sighed, reprimanding himself for even bothering to ask Gotoh in the first place. While Gotoh had been Killua's favorite butler, and the admiration was clearly not one sided, Gotoh was intensely loyal to Silva. Sometimes Killua could read the words that stained the inside of Gotoh's cheek; all of the advice and reasoning that he wanted to bestow on to the young master was locked away in the reluctance of Gotoh's mind.

"I get it, but let the record state that I don't have time for this."

"I imagine so, Master Killua."

* * *

Gotoh played guide as he led Killua to the rarely occupied room in the upstairs corridor. He stood to the side, arm reached out to Killua's impending doom. Killua stepped in and almost choked on the tense seriousness that clouded the room. Silva sat in his throne, his chin resting on his thick hand. Kikyo looked oddly pristine for this time of morning, sitting to his right on her loveseat. Both pairs of eyes burned a hole through Killua's forehead, forcing him to breathe deeply in retaliation.

"Good morning, son," Silva's voice defied lower octaves, booming against the cage of Killua's eardrum. His face held no expression, a sign that he meant strict business. "Please have a seat next to your mother."

Kikyo pat the velvet plush in the empty cushion next to her, a small imprint of her hand left behind. Killua reluctantly set down, her strong floral perfume invading his nostrils.

"Good morning, Kil," she sang, although a tightness in her voice layered the sweetness.

"Mother, Father, good morning to you as well. Can we get down to the root of why you've brought me _here_?"

Kikyo chuckled, a hand swiping over her bottom lip. "The older you get, the more I see myself in you, Kil. You waste no time around curtsies."

"Please," Killua closed his eyes in irritation, "don't insult me, Mother."

"Killua," Silva's voice boomed as he reigned down his authority, "I do not care to hear your attitude, nor will I entertain it. You will not disrespect your mother, especially not in my presence son."

Killua bit back his snide remark, instead focusing his attention to the craft details embroidered in Silva's chair.

"Kil," she turned her body slightly so that she faced him directly, her chocolate coal irises swimming with accusation, "are you aware that Illumi did not return home last night?"

Killua could not stop the dumbfounded look that erupted on his face, his eyes narrowing down in disbelief. "Did you….did the both of you _really_ call me in here to discuss the whereabouts of an _adult_?"

"You and I both know that Illumi has never spent a night away from home. The fact that he did not return on such an important night that honored _you_ and him both worries me. And it _should_ worry you too, Kil. Although, considering your behaviors of late, I'm not surprised that you don't take the time to think of anyone but yourself."

Killua shook his head, his astonishment falling from his hairs and littering the floor. "You can't be serious, Mother."

"Oh but I am," Kikyo's voice took a new life of its own, twisting and convulsing with harshness and targeting Killua's throat, "And I've had more than enough of this game that you continue to play. So now your Father and I are calling a time out."

"What _game_?" Despite Silva's previous warning, Killua could not help the vindictive tone that escaped his lips. "Say what you want to say, Mother, I'm too tired to hear you riddle me with analogies."

Kikyo pressed her lips together in a straight line, appearing as though she would bite them off. Anger washed over her in waves, and she took a deep breath to prevent drowning everyone in the room.

"Okay, fine. You want me to lay it out for you like you're some sort of toddler? Great! It's what mothers do, right? They coddle their babies and burp their backs and fix their mistakes when they leave a mess. Well consider yourself lucky Killua, because Mother is here to clean it up for you!"

"What your mother is trying to say, son," Silva intervened, feeling the conversation taking a different route than the one that he had intended, "is that we've noticed that you've been unfocused, and we both feel it's necessary to get you back on track."

"What on earth," Killua kept his tone cool, a blatant difference in the respect he held for his father, "makes you think I'm unfocused? Because I decide that I want to do something _different_ other than live and die on Kukuroo Mountain?"

"No," Kikyo chimed in, "you're unfocused because you deem it more important to parade around with _commoners_ who can't help you in the least bit than to uphold the sanctity of your family name. The name that _I_ gave you the moment I pushed you into life. It's about time that you remember that you wouldn't have _anything_ if it weren't for your father and me."

"I never asked you for any of this! Why can't you understand that the _only_ thing I want from either of you is the peace and freedom to do my own thing?"

"Because your own _thing_ is eating away at our family! Your own thing creates a domino effect on your own flesh and blood and you waltz around like we're your enemy! That's your problem, Killua. You only think of what's beneficial to you and not the bigger picture, and we're the ones left in the dust. Do you not recall the consequences of the last time you acted so _selfishly?"_

"Kikyo, enough!" Silva's voice cut through the conversation as he pounded his fist down against the arm of his chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Killua's face was shattered due to the knife in Kikyo's words, and Silva vowed that he would never live to see his son _that_ broken again. "Killua, son, what is that you so desperately desire? What is it that is so important to you that you'd be willing to throw away the opportunity to continue on our legacy? _My_ legacy?"

Killua's silence was the only answer he could give, the weight of Kikyo's tangent forcing his lips tightly shut. Warm tears threatened to cascade down his cheeks, but he blinked them away in retaliation.

Silva took a deep breath, almost wanting to cave in to anything Killua asked for if it meant no more tears would be shed from his silver haired heir. "My son, if you don't understand anything else in the world, you need to understand that your mother and I love you very much, and we care about your wants and desires just like any parent would. I know we've made mistakes," he cut his eyes over at Kikyo, who was mentally fighting her fuming anger, "some that are unforgiveable. I'm not blind enough to pretend otherwise. But anything we've done is for the betterment of this family. I'll be frank with you, son. I don't trust Illumi one bit."

Kikyo and Killua's eyes shot over to Silva immediately, their faces astonished at his confession. Kikyo clutched her chest in dramatics, her mouth parting in disbelief.

"Silva! You cannot possibly mean that? You can't say that about your own son-"

"Hush, Kikyo!" Silva kept his eyes focused on Killua, his intentions of his son understanding the magnitude of the situation being his priority. "As I was saying Killua, I don't trust your brother, nor do I believe his intentions are just and true. Leaving all of Kukuroo in his hands is not something I would want over my head for the rest of my life, and I'm sure you know that I don't need to explain as to why. He doesn't have your level headedness, nor does he have the brilliant mind that you possess. Kukurro needs you, _I_ need you, and that's something that you just have to understand."

"Father," Killua's voice was a whisper, "I appreciate that, I really do. I understand how much you want me to take over the council, but politics are just not my passion. Would you really ask me to disservice myself and spend a life in misery? Marrying a woman that I don't even _know_ for the sake of what? To keep a family name alive? Why are you insisting on putting that pressure on me? There's Milluki, or Kalluto or—"

"Here." Silva pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, reaching across to Killua. Killua unfolded it and scanned over, his eyes widening at the printed text.

"It's a copy of your Grandfather Zeno's will. He too saw the potential that you have, and he also did not want to trust that to Illumi. It's not just me, it's not just your mother, and it's not just Kukuroo that believes in you. It's bigger than us, son."

Killua held the upmost respect for his Grandfather Zeno, his memory recalling the moments they spent together when he was still alive. Zeno had taken Killua under his wing, becoming a professor of life for his grandson. When Zeno passed, Killua felt like the only person in the world who understood him had been unfairly removed from his life. But things were different now; Killua had found his other piece to the puzzle, and he refused to throw that away for a piece of paper.

He passed it back to Silva, along with his resignation from being the heir through his fingers. Silva didn't need to hear the words; he knew the battle had been lost.

"I get it, and I know Grandpa would understand when I tell you that I _can't_ do it. I won't cheat myself out of happiness, I just won't."

"And what," Kikyo spoke, her tone tamed and relaxed, "is it that makes you happy? That you would dishonor your beloved grandfather's will?"

Killua debated whether or not he should come clean. Tell them the truth about his extra-curricular class that had not been what his parents requested. He ultimately decided that this was his truth, and it was about time that he started living in it.

"Painting makes me happy, Mother. I've been taking a class at school and it's what I want to do with my life."

"Painting!?" Kikyo's eye lids stretched so far that they almost touched the ceiling, the creases in her aged skin becoming more apparent. "You might have well just told me that you want to be homeless, Kil! You are throwing everything away, for some goddamned art!?"

"Language, Kikyo," Silva's voice remained cool, although the irritation set in his the lines in his forehead like an advertisement. "Killua, son, you've been lying to us this entire time?"

"I didn't want to tell you the truth because I knew what that would mean. But I can't run from this any longer. Now you know, this is why I can't do this."

Kikyo laughed wickedly, her body doubling over in mockery. There was no way in hell that her son, the brilliant and poised son that she _raised_ , was sitting next to her telling her that he wanted no part of the council because of _art_. He couldn't be serious.

Looking at his face again, it was more than clear that he was.

Kikyo regained her composure, taking Killua's hand in her own. "Okay, I see the truth now. This is all under the influence of that _boy_ you brought here last night. He looked like the wild hippie type, so I'm not surprised. Which makes what I have to say even easier. It's like this, my darling, _darling_ boy: You will marry Rozlyn, you will join the council, and you will return to your old charter school. And don't even think of protesting, as your mother, I am stripping away your disobedience. So you will do as I say, that is, if you really do care about your _friend_ Gon."

Killua snatched his hand away, his mouth agape. _How does she know his name? I never mentioned it to her!_

Instinctively, Kikyo read his mind and answered his question. "Do you think anyone would enter my home and leave without me knowing about them? Well, your little friend is no exception, and my does he have quite the story. One that I'm sure would completely _devastate_ him if it were to be brought to light… _again._ "

"Are….are you…" Killua's words were caught in a spiraled tangle in his throat, her monstrosity appalling him, "are you blackmailing me, Mother?"

"No, I'm _promising_ you that this is how it will be. So go off," she shooed her hand in theatrics, "and enjoy your last week of that slum school. Starting Monday, you will be back where you belong, my dear."

Killua looked over at his father, who nodded his head in agreement. "I was hoping that you would agree with me, Killua, but this is for the best. I didn't want it to come to this."

Killua shook his head, shock consuming his body. He couldn't believe their audacity, and he knew deep down that he wouldn't give in so easily. But he knew that he shouldn't reveal his nature, for a lion stalks his prey before making the kill. He got up silently, reaching the door before stopping.

"What story, Mother? What story do you have on him?"

Kikyo chuckled darkly, a slap in the face for Killua. "Why, he's _your_ friend isn't he? You should ask him, if he's as good to you as he pretends to be."

Killua left before he defiled his own morality and endangered his mother. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he needed to remove himself and Alluka from the Zoldyk home permanently. And it had to happen sooner rather than later.

* * *

Zushi, as Gon discovered at lunch, was not the oblivious type.

Gon had barely let the noodles from his ramen slither over his tongue when Zushi cut his eyes at him suspiciously. Gon sucked down the half eaten noodles swiftly, Zushi's expression catching him off guard.

"What?"

Zushi smiled deviously, drinking down his tea. He let Gon wallow in self-doubt before speaking his mind-and he surely had a lot to say.

"So," he pressed against the table further, his chin resting on his intertwined fingers, "how exactly _was_ partying at casa de Killua?"

Gon's cheeks stained with crimson, his answer caught in a forced cough. Zushi raised an eyebrow at the dramatics; Gon was terrible at concealing his true emotions.

"It was fun."

" _Fun_?" Zushi leaned back in his chair and frowned, an accusatory finger dancing across the table, "You've been walking around here like a puppy in heat since Killua transferred here, and all you have to say is it was _fun_?"

"I do not," Gon pouted, a lump of truth forming in his throat, "I am very collected around him or anybody else, thank you very much."

"Oh please, Gon, don't insult me by acting like I don't notice. All of the, ' _Sorry Zushi, I can't hang out today I'm painting with Killua_ ' or ' _I'll make it up to you next time by buying you lunch, but Killua and I are going to the park after school_ ' and blah blah blah. Geeze, you would think that Killua's name is stamped on your tongue, ready to bleed like ink when you part your lips."

Gon sulked, guilt dousing over him. "Do I make you upset, Zushi? If so, I'm really sorry."

Zushi laughed heartedly, waving off Gon's words. "Are you kidding me? What kind of friend would I be if I stood in the way of you and your boyfriend? It's nice to see you happy, and I mean _really_ happy, and not that presidential smile you plaster for these guys around here. By the way, he _is_ your boyfriend, right?"

Gon felt the hotness scorch his face like lava, a panicked chill curdling in his chest. Zushi _was_ perceptive, even if Gon hadn't realized how egregious he had been in downplaying his feelings. There was no point in trying to deny the truth that was slowly awakening between them, and the look on Zushi's face was determined if anything else.

Gon let out a stifled sigh, running his hand against the coarse hairs that curled against the back of his neck.

"We aren't _anything_ really. Not that it's a bad thing, though. We just, I don't know, _are_ , whatever that means."

"What that means," Zushi waved his plastic fork in front of Gon's face before stabbing it into his hamburger meat, "is that you guys are not running around here acting like you're both keeping some secret from the other anymore. It's pretty obvious that there's a real connection there and I'm just happy you stopped trying to run from it."

"I guess it was obvious to everyone except us, or maybe….maybe we just didn't want to believe it." Gon folded his arms and closed his eyes, another sigh fleeing his mouth. "I'm not complaining or anything, don't get me wrong, but when I think of how long we've been around each other completely _oblivious_ , it raises a lot of questions."

"Questions like what?"

"Well, like, where did these feelings come from? Are we just playing follow the leader? Who liked who first, and _why_."

"Do you really need to ask yourself why you like Killua?"

Gon smiled a tranquil grin, his eyes fluttering open to a warm honeysuckle. " _Of course not_. I know exactly why _I_ like Killua. He's….perfect. I mean sure he can be a little moody, and even though I don't get it, it's never directed at me. And he can be kind of secretive, but at the same time I feel like he's so honest with me. And his eyes are _electrifying_. It's like I'm being pulled to stare at them; they're absolutely hypnotizing. And his _skin!_ It's unfair the way the moon kissed him but… _god_ …I mean-"

Gon paused as he noticed the half lidded way Zushi was looking at him, his fork holding his meat frozen inches away from his mouth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because," Zushi bit into his fork, his eyes never lingering from Gon's face, "you've got it _bad_. You're worse off than I thought."

"What do you mean bad?"

"What I mean is, the word _like_ is a complete understatement to describe what you feel for Killua. You should see the peace that sets in your skin when you describe him. You _always_ talk about Killua, but never like that. _That_ look was one that most people wish they could have. I can only imagine what would happen when you guys actually kiss."

Gon said nothing, cherries replacing his cheeks as he stared down into the wooden details of the table. Zushi's eyes widened, his mouth curling into a grin of realization.

"Well, _this_ is news! When did this happen?"

Gon looked up sheepishly to meet Zushi's face, the red hue still smeared on his cheeks. "Last night," he confessed, holding up two fingers, " _twice_."

Zushi sat his fork down and clapped his hands slowly, beaming with pride. "It's about time, Gon. It's about damn time. So wait, if you're _that_ charismatic when you talk about him, and you guys already kissed, then why do you have so many questions?"

"I guess," Gon ran his finger over the smooth wood, tracing the beige lines that swirled through the oak, "my real, and _only_ , question is: why would Killua like _me?_ "

Zushi paused at Gon's inquiry, a sympathetic gleam racing through his eyes. _Gon, do you really need to ask why anyone would like you?_

As if on cue, Killua plopped down in the chair beside Gon, his blue lunch tray clumsily setting on top of the table. Killua still felt dizzy with emotion from his interrogation earlier, but making Gon fret was the last thing he would do. He composed himself with dignity, one of the few tricks of the trade that came from being a Zoldyk. He knew far too well why his father fought hard for him to be an esteemed politician.

"Sorry I'm late guys," Killua took no time in ripping the lid off of his chocolate pudding, his nose turning up at the meat concoction that mirrored Zushi's, "my history teacher gave us a really hard test."

"No biggie," Zushi said, carefully eyeing Gon in secret, "we've just been chatting away."

"Oh?" Killua shoved his spoon in the chocolate elixir before scooping it into his mouth, his face contorting to pleasure as the sweet cocoa blanketed his tongue. "Anything interesting?"

"Oh sure, _lots_ of things. But nothing worth repeating,, we wouldn't want to bore you." Zushi took the opportunity to wink at Gon as Killua became transfixed on his treat.

Killua shrugged his shoulders and looked at Gon out of the corner of his eye. He sneaked a long gaze at his majestic friend, his eyes washing over sharp jaw lines and muscles that imprinted through his fitted green shirt. His mouth almost salivated as he studied just how _gorgeous_ Gon really was, as if he was seeing him for the first time. Killua felt like he had been given a season pass to view him like he was a theme park attraction, and he planned on using it every chance he got. He shoved another spoonful of pudding in his mouth to keep him occupied, but he planned on using his fingers to recite the poetry etched in bronze skin, and painting the colors that collided on his body when the time allowed.

"So," Zushi interrupted Killua's inner monologue, "while I have you both here, I have some exciting news. My mom told me yesterday that Wing is coming back to Yorkshin next month."

"Oh my god, really!?" Gon enthusiastically slammed his palms on the table, causing a light rumble of Killua and Zushi's trays.

"Get a hold of yourself, Freecs," Killua lightly chuckled, touching Gon's arm. Gon relaxed at the softness of his fingertips, resisting the urge to trace the stories that Killua embedded in their stumps.

"That's not even the best part, guys. Her catering company has been hired to provide the refreshments for the gallery, so she can get us all in for free! And of course that invitation extends to Kurapika."

Gon stared ahead, trying his best to conceal his squeal, but the air hissed through his teeth like an alarm. Killua smirked in expectance of the outburst, surprised that Gon had managed to suppress it for this long. Gon took a deep breath, clearly over his ecstatic glee. He pulled out his phone, his fingers racing over the keys.

"Tell you mother she is a _saint,_ do you hear me? I am forever in her debt because I am meeting my _idol_. I'm texting Kurapika right now, but I don't even know how I can do that because I just _died_."

Killua leaned a little closer, half to see the message Gon was sending, and half to whisper in his his ear.

"Don't die on me yet, Gon."

Gon shivered as Killua's warm breath tickled his skin, the milky baritone of his voice coiling in his ear. He focused on the message that was being sent to Kurapika, which was harder to send at the close distance of the silver haired teen. Almost immediately, the buzzing of Gon's phone vibrated against his hand, Kurapika's name flashing in the middle of the screen.

_-That sounds incredible. Tell Zushi I said thank you. I was just about to text you, are you free this weekend?_

_-Nope, I'm available. What do you have planned?_

_\- Leorio got into law school & I'm throwing him a party to celebrate. It'd be nice if you could swing by, he's been asking about you. _

_-Of course I will! I'll get him a nice gift too. Can I bring friends?_

_-Absolutely. I was going to tell you to bring Zushi. And the friend you wouldn't shut up about last time. His name again?_

_-Killua_

_-Aaah yes Killua. Definitely bring Killua ;) He definitely brings out a side of you I've been dying to see._

_-Really? How so?_

_-You're so animated and inspired now. Remind me to shake his hand. He's a good friend for you ;) ;) ;)_

_-lol you never change Kurapika_

_-Someone's got to look out for you Gon. I'll pass the torch to Killua. See you guys this weekend._

_-For sure :D_

Gon checked to see if Killua was still lingering his shoulder, but to his delight the teen had resumed his conversation with Zushi and eating another pudding cup. Gon traced the outline of Killua's body, admiring his slender yet muscular physique. Killua's face was not as soft as his own, rather it appeared that the teen had to mature faster than others. His jaw lines were strikingly sharp and accentuated his milky pale skin. His hair compared to the finest wool, and Gon had its softness engrained in his fingertips so that he could never forget the feeling. His muscles were hidden under the heavy fabric of his shirts, but it didn't take a hard eye quint to notice how buff he was. Killua was intimidatingly handsome and he didn't even know it. Gon vowed that he would remind him every chance he got.

The lunch bell rang, knocking Gon out of his trance and back into reality. Killua scooped the last contents of his pudding cup before grabbing his items. Zushi said his goodbyes and made his way to his next class. Before the chance was lost upon them, Gon reached over and squeezed Killua's hand, letting his fingers convey his message. Killua squeezed back, a warm smile curving his mouth.

"Hey, Killua? Is it okay if I ask you something?"

"Yes," Killua stared into Gon's honey warm irises, forcing Gon to swallow the urges that levitated in his chest, "you can ask me anything."

"Well," Gon paused, attempting to group his words in order, "I know you said that you can't answer any questions that I have, and I understand it and I respect it. But," he ran his tongue over his bottom lips, worried that his words would not carry the full magnitude that he had hoped, "do you think there will ever be a day when we can have _those_ kind of conversations? You know, the ones that maybe scare us too badly to have with anyone else?"

Killua could not force himself to look away from the truth in Gon's eyes. He recited what his mother had told him that morning about Gon's _story_. Although he had wanted to ask Gon then and there what exactly that story was, he knew he had no right to ask for information that even _he_ couldn't discuss.

"One day," he started, "we will expose our demons to each other, whatever they may be. But I have to warn you, Gon. Some demons are so twisted and evil that they should never see the light of day. So we have to make sure that we are strong enough on our own," he squeezed Gon's hand again, "and together before we make that leap. I don't want destroy myself from the fall."

Gon nodded his head in understanding, but a weight of guilt caused his heart to plummet to the carpet of the library floor.

_That's exactly what I'm afraid of, Killua. I want to talk to you so badly, but how could you look at me the same, if you knew the origins from which I come from?_

* * *

Kurapika and Leorio's apartment was superb for two college students to afford, and Killua wondered if he himself would be able to live such a life of luxurious exclusion in the following year.

It made the welcomed distraction much more enticing, and the fact that Kurapika was providing liquor only helped Killua relax more. It had been a few days of smiling and acting as if everything was okay, especially in the company of his parents, but the ruse was growing tiring, and Killua knew he would eventually slip through the cracks of pressure that rolled in with each morning.

Kurapika wasted no time in chauffeuring Gon and Killua throughout his apartment, emphasizing his admiration of Gon's photos to the guests. Gon was delighted to see that Kurapika had purchased one of those photographs for their living room, and he did a double take when he saw its elegance tied in perfectly over their bricked mantle.

"Kurapika!" Gon's smile added to the luminescent lights overhead, "This is my most favorite photo I've ever taken! I can't believe you bought it!"

Kurapika chuckled, sipping his bottle of beer and wiping his mouth. "I'm surprised that _you're_ surprised, Gon. I sold almost all of your photos that night; everyone seemed to compliment the realness you captured. But this one," Kurapika pointed to the photo, entitled "Timeless", "is my absolute favorite. The look in their eyes is priceless."

Gon had managed to take a photo of his elderly neighbors on a Sunday afternoon after bringing one of Mito's pies over. The husband had brought out a montage of old photos of he and his wife in their early years of marriage. Although childless, it appeared they had gone on many adventures together and had lived a life of happiness before retiring to Whale Island. The husband had kept a photograph of them visiting an orphanage; one that the wife had mentioned had been a frequent stop on their path of travels. She had gotten emotional looking at the photograph, wondering if she had done the right thing as a wife by never bearing his child. Her husband wrapped his arm around her, reminding her that they had unconventional children, with the orphanages and many other people they had met being a part of their extended family. He had started to sing a song from the orphan's village, which brought a tender, emotional smile on his spouse's face. Gon had taken the picture shortly afterwards, the older man singing in his wife's ear, while she held the photo in one hand and wiped a tear from her eye with the other. The warm smiles that enchanted both of their faces had inspired him to title it "Timeless".

Killua once again was mesmerized at the raw essence that Gon had captured, the definition of true love being able to transcend its paper prison. He looked over at Gon and smiled tenderly, finding himself in an evolving infatuation.

"I wouldn't have chosen a better owner than you, Kurapika. I made sure to give them a copy too, but I'm glad the finished print was placed in a good home."

"Yeah, but what a way to make the rest of us singles feel bad!" A playful voice came from behind them, and Killua turned to see a young adult drinking a beer and fixing his glasses. "Guess I can't expect anything less from you, Gon. You've always been the 'make-em-feel-something' little bastard." He made a mess out of Gon's hair, and Gon smiled a cheeky innocent smile back.

"Leorio!" He jumped into his arms, squeezing a hug and momentarily stunning him backwards. "It's been so long since I've seen you! I missed you!"

Leorio hugged Gon back, balancing his beer in his free hand. "I've missed you too, kid, I was beginning to think you didn't want anything to do with me anymore! You've sure gotten stronger since you were that scrawny little freshmen I first met. What are you just walking around here punching people on purpose?"

Gon laughed deeply in his belly, his baritone creating relaxing music in their atmosphere. "No, Aunt Mito just puts me to work a lot."

"Your Aunt Mito, eh?" Leorio tilted his glasses to the end of his nose and peered over. "Is she still as good looking as I remember?"

"Aunt Mito still looks the same."

"Huh, I see. Do you think she'd remember me? Now that I've grown up a bit?"

"How could she not remember you?" Gon chuckled, patting Leorio's shoulder, "In fact, she still asks me about 'the pervert who used to come around.' I'm sure she'd hit you with her purse again if she saw you."

Leorio scowled and chugged his beer bottle, wincing as the strong liquid burned his throat. "Ugh, this stuff tastes like motor oil. Well at least I can say that hasn't changed one bit; I still have a problem getting the ladies to understand me, no thanks to Mr. Pretty Boy here."

Kurapika blinked as his eyes widened, his thumb pointed to his chest. "What do I have to do with any of your problems?"

Leorio scoffed and swallowed the last remains of his beer. "They all think you're my girlfriend! I always told you that your pretty ways would be your downfall."

"Oh, Leorio. It's amazing how someone so dense could be as brilliant as yourself. I'm never surprised, that's for sure."

Leorio swung his arm around Kurapika, a cheerful grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "Well if they're going to think someone's dating me, I'm glad it's you! You handsome little devil. Speaking of which," Leorio tipped his glasses towards Killua, "I see our friends have bad manners."

"Oh!" Gon stood closer to Killua's side, touching the bottom of his back. Killua had to breathe to prevent the fire from burning his cheeks. "How could I be so stupid? Leorio, this is my good friend Killua. Killua, this is Kurapika's roommate and my old friend from high school, Leorio."

"Very nice to meet you," Killua extended a hand, to which Leorio took in his own.

"Likewise, likewise. Any friend of Gon's is a friend of mine. By the way, where's Zushi?"

"He said he'd be coming later after he helped his mom."

"I see, well," Leorio walked by the kitchen, grabbing two bottles out of the cooler, "Might as well get the party started, guys." He handed the bottles over to Gon and Killua, "I won't tell if you won't."

Killua welcomed the crisp taste of the beer as it washed his teeth, almost finishing half of the bottle. He and Milluki used to sneak beer from his father's cupboard when he was 13, but a swift and strict punishment from Silva upon the discovery had scared them straight. It was a taste that gave him nostalgia, the smell of the night sky on top of the roof of the Zoldyk estate intruding his nostrils.

Gon, it appeared, was not used to the taste as his repulsive frown gave away. Killua chuckled, as Leorio pat his back.

"Take it easy there kid," he joked, "we've got all night! And a virgin like you shouldn't be in a rush to drink this stuff." He took another long swig, mocking the same expression as Gon's. "Seriously, Kurapika, you always have to pick the harsh stuff."

Kurapika smiled and shrugged his shoulders, finishing off his bottle. "What can I say? I'm a big fan of IPA; it's the artist in me."

"Eh, it's not like I'll care after about 3 more bottles anyway." He forced the rest of the liquid down his throat, burping upon completion. "How about we get some snacks and catch up?" He threw his arms around Kurapika and Gon, smiling as the heat of the liquor rushed to his cheeks, "Plus it'll give me the chance to talk to Killua over here. I believe I've heard your name mentioned by Kurapika before."

"He was at the last gallery I had. You remember when I told you about Gon's _friend_."

Killua and Gon's cheeks were stained with apples at the emphasizing of the word 'friend', and both of them simultaneously sipped their beer to hide their embarrassment. Leorio smiled smugly, ruffling his hand through Gon's hair once more.

"You cheeky little bastard! Now we _really_ have to catch up, but I can't operate on an empty stomach. Come, come to kitchen so we can taste those artsy fartsy snacks Kurapika made."

The arrangement of food was colorful, if anything else, and it appeared that Kurapika took his time in making the hors d'oevres. Killua helped himself to a small plate of chocolate dipped pretzels and mini croissant dogs, while Gon stuffed his face with deviled eggs. He smiled with enthusiasm as he savored the taste.

"I've missed your culinary skills, Kurapika!"

Kurapika chuckled, grabbing a cookie from the tray. "I appreciate that Gon. It's good to know my mother taught me something well."

Leorio passed another round of beers along, and it was clear that his tolerance was rising as he chugged the bottle down. Killua followed suit, the taste becoming more transparent following the first. Gon looked at them both nervously before playing follow the leader. Killua was surprised at his dedication, marveling at how fast he finished his bottle.

"Wow," Gon burped, "that one wasn't so bad."

"And it'll only get better!" Leorio passed them another one, grinning mischeviously, "you only live once, boys!"

Kurapika shook his head as he slowly drank his beer. "I apologize for Leorio's rudeness; he's just a bit excited tonight."

"As I damn well should be! I've been studying my ass off for the law program, and I deserve tonight to lay off some steam. It's been months since I've been able to party or drink."

"Congratulations by the way, Leorio," Gon beamed, his words starting to reflect his alcohol content, "I always knew that you'd be a good lawyer."

Leorio waved off Gon's words with a smile as he began to drink again. "Don't make my head bigger Gon." His face turned serious as the true nature of his passion came to light. He leaned back against the wall and brought his beer to his chest. "In all honesty, I have to thank Kurapika for helping me get this far. Without his friendship, I'd still be a smug little asshole who was trying to sleep with any girl that came in breathing distance."

Kurapika blushed, suddenly drinking his beer faster than he intended. "Stop it, Leorio."

"No, I mean it! If it wasn't for you supporting me through those long nights of stressed out studying, making me food and being my _mother_ , I would have quit this path a long time ago. Plus it's because of you that I wanted to be a lawyer in the first place."

Kurapika and Gon's face dropped, a sentimental expression capturing both of their faces. Killua looked on confused, until Kurapika faced him with an understanding smile.

"I'm sorry, Kurapika," Gon said softly.

Kurapika shook his head. "Don't be, I've had time to heal. I guess I should fill you in, Killua."

"You don't have to," Killua put his hand up in protest, "if it's too personal."

"No it's okay. It's a part of who I am now, so I suppose one can't consider themselves my friend unless they know this. And like Leorio said, any friend of Gon's is a friend of mine. My freshmen year here, I received a call one night that I had to go home. My family had moved 3 hours from Yorkshin after I graduated to a small rural town north from here. My mother told me that she and my father had been wanting to get away from the loud city life, and even though I was sad to see her go, I knew that she deserved some peace after all she had done for me. Anyways, I went home and was greeted by red and blue lights instead of my mom's smiling face."

Killua's face dropped, realization taking place after reading in between the lines. "Please don't tell me…."

Kurapika nodded, chugging the last of his beer. "Yeah, a robbery gone badly, they told me. My mother and father were killed in their sleep, along with my little brother. It hurt me for a long time, and all I could think about was finding the bastards who did this and making them suffer. But Leorio was there for me, and he helped me keep focus and continue through school."

Killua noticed how Gon's face darkened as he drank his beer. A memory, it appeared, had washed over him after Kurapika's story, but he appeared to swallow it down with his liquor. _What was that, Gon?_

"If it wasn't for Leorio," Kurapika continued, "I don't know where I would be. He was my light through the darkness."

"And because of that, I vowed that I would help put away any idiots who would do something like that. Who knows, maybe one day I'll catch the sons of bitches who did that and bring down the swift hand of Paladiknight justice."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Kurapika," Killua flashed him a warm smile of kindness, "I know you say it's alright, but still…"

"I appreciate that, Killua. But let this show the true power of a good friendship or relationship. If anything, I want people to know that they should invest in real bonds with people, and never let them go if they found someone to hold them through the darkness."

Gon looked over at Killua instaneously, a look of affection marveling his eyes. Killua smiled back, and for a brief second, it felt like no one else was in the room besides them.

Leorio laughed and clutched his belly, throwing himself towards the duo. "Well it seems like my gut instinct didn't fail me yet again! It's so painfully obvious that you two have it _bad_ for the other. Either that or I'm _very_ drunk." He wobbled from the sudden movement, using their shoulders to help him lean up. "Yep, it's probably both."

"Killua means a lot to me," Gon said immediately, his voice soft and full of fondness, "I'll never take that for granted."

Killua stood stunned, his sobriety clearly having left his body. His head felt dizzy, both of intoxication and at the sincerity of Gon's words. Gon looked over and smiled, reaching down to swiftly brush against his hand.

"I can tell, and for that I am happy," Kurapika announced, folding his arms and closing his eyes. "The way you two acted at the gallery made me think you've been dating for a while."

Killua coughed at that, still unsure exactly what to label Gon and himself. He had never been in such a situation before-rather a situation that _he_ put himself in and not at the conniving schemes of his family—and he wasn't sure how far he should leap to guarantee a safe landing.

"You two are so adorable!" Leorio opened another bottle of beer and slung it back, streaks of brown liquid escaping the corner of his mouth. "I bet if it was scientifically possible, you would make the _best_ looking children. Hell, maybe Kurapika and myself would pay you to make some for us!"

"Okay, Leorio," Kurapika blushed, a look of flattery dancing across his cheeks, "let's take you to get some fresh air. I don't want you scaring Killua away."

"Awww, what'd I do now? He's a smart kid, he knows what I mean!" Leorio winked at Killua as Kurapika pulled him towards the patio door. Leorio's loud laughter could still be heard through the thick glass sliding doors.

Killua laughed, feeling even more dizzy at the gesture. "He's a funny guy."

"Yeah," Gon chuckled, "you can't help but love him."

Killua regained his composure, but gravity was not his friend as he fell back against the wall, pulling Gon with him. At this closeness, and under the rosy lenses of beer goggles, Gon was _irresistible_. Killua bit his bottom lip as the woodsy cologne Gon was wearing layered him like a second skin. "So tell me again," he said in low voice, feeling Gon's body react to his baritone, "how important I am to you."

Killua wrapped an arm around his waist, appreciating how perfectly Gon fit inside the mold. Gon sucked in a quick breath of air, pressing his chest closer to Killua's. By the nature of his lowered eye lids, Gon too had hopped off the sobriety train, and was hopping aboard a _different_ kind of intoxication.

"You're very important," Gon's lips brushed against Killua's, the small shock of electricity causing them both to stir lightly, "I don't know how I ever did without you before."

"You mean that?" Killua's hand was massaging over the small of Gon's back, "Because I want to know if you feel the way I do."

"Oh yeah?" Gon's voice was husky, causing a small tremor in Killua's chest. "Well, how do you feel, Killua?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Killua pulled Gon closer in, sucking on Gon's bottom lip before traveling downward. Killua could taste his own name in Gon's flesh, and he grew excited to know that it was the only name that existed there. It made him want to taste different parts of Gon, discovering what other secrets buried underneath his skin. His lips traveled towards his neck, sucking softly at the location, Gon's scent imprinting over his tongue. Gon moaned softly, looking around to see if anyone else had wandered in the kitchen. Not that it completely mattered, as they lost themselves in their own world.

Killua traced his tongue along Gon's neck, relishing the tease of it all. Gon was slowly melting like butter in his hands, and Killua had to strengthen his grip to keep him up.

"Killua," Gon breathed in his ear, but Killua silenced him by sucking on his skin again, gently biting against his flesh. Gon's hands found themselves raking against his abdomen, delighting against his toned structure. Killua was clearly on a mission, and Gon wasn't sure if he was trying to please him or torture him. Either way, Killua had won this round.

"Killua," he said again, forcing himself to ignore the bliss of ecstasy that clouded his brain, "I want to hear it come from you."

"And I'm trying to hear something else come from you," he growled against his skin.

"Please," Gon begged, finding it increasingly difficult to not give in to the waves of pleasure that washed over him, "I really want to."

Killua sighed, breaking free from his task. "Really, Freecs?"

Gon pouted, his lips swollen from Killua's sucking, "Really, Killua. How do you feel about me?"

Killua watched the anticipation grow in Gon's face, taking his sentiment hostage. He smiled, realizing that he couldn't keep Gon in the dark forever.

"Fine, I suppose it's time we had _that_ talk anyways. See, Gon, the thing is-"

"Holy shit! This is terrible!"

Gon and Killua's head jerked to Leorio's voice as it boomed through the living room. The urgency in his tone knocked them both back to reality, and they rushed to see what had caused the commotion.  
Several people, including Leorio and Kurapika, huddled around the television that was on the wall. Leorio looked on in shock, as the news reporter stood by as an ambulance crew took several bodies under a white sheet to their truck.

"Turn it up, Leorio," Kurapika urged, "that's the bar we frequented a lot."

_"Police are calling this the bloodiest massacre that they have seen in Yorkshin in decades, with several officers appalled at how so many people could meet such a fate."_

The news segment transitioned to a police officer, who looked rather stunned at the scene behind him. _"Never in my twenty five years on the force have I seen anything so gruesome. It's not rare that we get called out to bars to disrupt a fight or deescalate some sort of argument, but I've never had to look at anything like this."_

"What's going on, Kurapika?" Gon spoke, concern flashing across his face.

"There's this bar not too far from here called Blimps," Kurapika's face showed that he was very distraught with the news, "and last night there were several murders there, including the owner."

"Poor Tonpa," Leorio stated, his head drooped, "he could be a real asshole, but he didn't deserve this."

_"Police have given word that there are six deaths in all, including the owner of Blimps, Tonpa. No details have been disclosed as to how the nature of the events transpired, but officers do have a suspect in custody."_

"One man!?" Leorio stood up, angrily shaking his fist at the television. "One man killed six people, and no one could do anything about it?!"

Killua shook his head. "Some people are just evil, and unfortunately, too strong for anyone else to handle."

_"Here is the mugshot of the suspect in custody, as well as the video of him being escorted in handcuffs to police cars. We here at HXH11 should note that the suspect did not seem to be in any remorse, rather it appears that he is smiling and laughing at the outlandish nature of his crimes."_

"What kind of demon could laugh after killing _six_ people!?" Leorio clutched his beer tightly, his fists shaking in anger. "I can't wait to put assholes like that away for good!"

Killua studied the television as the video zoomed in closer at the apprehended suspect. The air in his lungs dissipated as the suspect turned his head around.

"Killua…" Gon whispered as he reached down to touch Killua's hand, his eyes never lingering the screen. "Isn't that…"

"Illumi." Killua whispered, his heart going in to shock. "My brother did this."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WANTED TO GIVE YOU GUYS A PRETTY LONG CHAPTER TO MAKE UP FOR MY ABSENCE FROM BEFORE. I WORKED REALLY HARD ON THIS FOR THE PAST WEEK, AND I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT.
> 
> ALSO…I REALLY DON'T LIKE TONPA :P SO….HE HAD TO GO (A LITTLE COMIC RELIEF TO DIFFUSE THE UPCOMING EVENTS.)
> 
> THANK YOU, THANK YOU, A THOUSAND THANK YOU'S TO ALL WHO HAVE REVIEWED, FAVORITED, OR JUST PLAIN READ THIS FAR. ONCE AGAIN, I SEE EVERY NOTIFICATION, AND IT COMPLETELY MAKES MY DAY. ALWAYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT YOUR CARES OR CONCERNS, GOOD OR BAD.
> 
> UNTIL NEXT TIME, MY FRIENDS.
> 
> -BITCHII-USA.


	9. Nine: Confess

_**Nine** _

_**Confess** _

Saturday mornings at The Phantom Spider were usually slow.

Most of the reporters only came to work to edit their pieces before the Monday print. And those that were smart would get their editing done on Fridays so that their weekends were completely free.

Machi, as she was beginning to discover, was apparently not that smart.

She lingered over her laptop, pressing her small framed body against her desk as if she were determined to break it. She took a deep sigh, deleting the four sentences that taunted her from the screen. She was enthusiastic to write a piece on the upcoming fall festivals, but as she set down to concoct a story, the doubts of it being interesting plagued her mind.

_No one in Yorkshin would care to read about something that happens yearly._

She popped a peppermint in her mouth, stretching her tired muscles as the tingling mint painted the surface of her tongue. Her stomach growled, betraying her feeble attempts at silencing it with her mediocre meal. She frowned, patting it lightly with her hand. "Just hold out a little bit longer, and I promise I'll treat you to a proper breakfast."

"Geeze, you really need to get out of here if you're going to be talking to yourself like that."

Machi wheeled around, the squeaking of her office chair causing her to grimace. She pursed her lips at the guest at the opening in her wall, a short man with hair that intruded his eyes.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, Feitan." She turned back around, typing nonsense into the headline template on the laptop. "What are you even doing here? I thought you finished your piece on Thursday?"

"I did." Feitan entered into her cubicle fully, pressing the back of his thighs against the desk. He crossed his arms and looked at her smugly, an annoyed Machi sizing him up and down out of the corner of her eyes. "Clearly you don't watch the news."

"I _am_ the news, idiot. And you're supposed to be too, if you consider the nonsense you sputter out and call advice _news_ , that is."

"Well, if you're news, then you're fired."

"Get on with it, Feitan," she massaged her temples, using her free hand to point to the unwritten article in front of her, "I really need to get back to this."

"Fuck that," he leaned over and clicked out of her program, causing Machi to lift her arms in the air out of frustration.

"What the hell, Feitan!?"

"You don't need to stress yourself out on that mundane garbage. Nobody cares about fall festivals, Machi, they happen every freaking year. What people _do_ care about is the mass murder that happened at Blimps last night."

Machi's eyes widened, her violet irises shrinking in size. "Mass murder at Blimps? When's the last time a mass murder happened in Yorkshin?"

"About thirty five years ago, according to the boss. He's the most excited I've seen him in a long time; he didn't even bring his event book in today. He's pretty focused."

A pink rose sprouted throughout Machi's cheeks, her head lowering slightly and eyes fixating on her electric purple nails. "He's _here_? He's been out for a while."

"Yep, well he's back now." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger, a coy grin uprooting the corners of his mouth. "And he's asking to see you in his office."

Machi wasted no further time, the words barely leaving Feitan's lips before she was scooting her chair back and rising. Feitan chuckled at the pink haired woman, raising an isolated thumb in the air.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

* * *

The inside of Chrollo Lucilfer's office was that of a brooding teenager; dark and sad.

It was the only way he could work, according to him, and considering the success of his newspaper company, the statement held true.

Machi secretly loved when Chrollo requested to see her in his office. Other than the fact that she got to spend a teaspoon of amount of time with him, the contrast between the bright and sunny newsroom was welcoming.

Chrollo sat in his office chair, fumbling through emails on his computer. His hair was down today, Machi observed, a complete change to the slicked back blackness that usually adorned his head. He was handsome; she was blushing.

He looked up as she entered further into the room, a smile slicing his face in two.

"There's my girl," he said, his low and milky tone cutting the air and jabbing her heart. Chrollo always knew exactly what to say to keep Machi wrapped around his finger, a position she was in no rush to lose.

"Good morning, boss," she smiled at him crookedly, playing with the bracelet he had gifted her last Christmas. Machi was undoubtedly his best reporter, well _one_ out of two of his best reporters, and he liked to keep them happy. Machi never took it off, not even when she showered, but she would never admit that.

"Good morning to you, Machi. And what a morning it is. My emails are swimming with information, and you're just one of the people I need to fish it out."

"One of?" The disappointment cuddled Machi's words like a scorned lover, the obvious displeasure registering on her face.

"Don't look so sour, you're too beautiful for that."

There she was again, hugging his finger so tightly he was losing circulation.

"Besides, this scoop is so big, it has to be a two person job."

"I see. Well what's the scoop? Feitan told me about Blimps already."

"What happened at Blimps is the one of the ingredients to the stew. If my sources are right, then we just might break every fucking record in publication history in Yorkshin. Let me not get ahead of myself," he pressed down anxiously on the intercom, as Machi silently prayed button three wouldn't light up.

Of course it lit up like downtown Yorkshin during winter festival.

She cursed under her breath, as a comical voice paraded through. "Good morning, Chrollo."

"Good morning. I need you to come to my office; I got a special project for you."

"Sure thing, Chrollo. I'll be right there."

Machi took a deep breath, irritation nestling in the spaces between her teeth. She hated the way _he_ disrespected Chrollo by calling him by his first name. Not that Chrollo had demanded it, but the staff had adopted the affectionate usage of calling him boss, an endearment meant to show him their fierce loyalty. After all, he took them in when they were all fresh out of college and barely writing missing reports on the side of milk cartons. Apparently, he felt as if he were too good to join in with the others.

"Boss—"

Chrollo put his palm in the air, cutting her off. "Don't start, Machi."

Machi sighed, her protest defeated before given the chance. Red hair danced out of the corner of her eye, a tall, muscular man with skin the color of milk standing next to her. His eyes were always mischievous, his irises painted the color of hell fire. _It fits him, the fucking devil himself._

"You look ravishing this morning, Machi," he said, his eyes still focusing on Chrollo. "I appreciate a woman who doesn't always need makeup."

She frowned, letting her silence give a disrespectful reply. Chrollo cleared his throat.

"Punctual as always, Hisoka. Thanks for coming in."

"I assume it's a pretty big job for _you_ to come in, a Saturday at that. I'm pretty _excited_."

Machi rolled her eyes, pondering how Chrollo let him get away with his sarcastic bullshit.

"It _is_ pretty big, so I'll get right to it. As I'm sure the both of you have heard, there was a massacre last night at Blimps in which six people died."

"Yes, how unfortunate," Hisoka dryly interrupted.

"Yes, very." Chrollo gripped his pen tightly, irritation pooling through at the interruption. "If I may continue?"

Hisoka smiled cheekily, his palm pressed outwards to motion the rest of the conversation.

"Well, they caught the man who did it, although it wasn't hard considering he never left the area. His name is Illumi Zoldyk, does that ring a bell?"

Machi and Hisoka shook their heads, with Chrollo responding with a sly grin.

"Of course you haven't, because he's apparently just an average man. Well, that's what you and everyone else _thinks_. But according to some pretty reputable sources, he may be linked to the council on Kukuroo Mountain."

"Kukurro?" Machi quizzed, her trimmed eyebrow rising high. " _No one_ knows who sits on the council in Kukurro."

"No one knows who sits on the council until _now._ Illumi is being held downtown, and a buddy of mine at the precinct owes me a favor. So I need you two to go do some serious digging and probe his mind. If he's sitting on the council, we need to be the first to uncover it. I'll be damned if some other gutter rats gets a whiff of this story before The Phantom Spider."

"Okay, boss," Machi responded dutifully, Hisoka smiling at her soldier like ways. "When do we start this, on Monday?"

Chrollo chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh no, no, no, dear Machi. You'll be starting in approximately," he checked his watch, "twenty five minutes. Fifteen, if you catch the train."

"Today?" Machi's mouth pooled her feet on the floor, and she had to pick it up before Chrollo caught the unattractive sight. "That's pretty short notice."

"I believe in you," he winked, and once again she was back on board, her posture straightening up a bit. "And you too, Hisoka."

"You got it, Chrollo." He turned, touching Machi slightly above the elbow. "Let's go, _partner._ "

She winced at the mentioning, waiting for him to wander into the halls. She walked closer to Chrollo, his cologne that smelled of fresh waters pulling her into a hug. She pressed her palms against his desk to prevent herself from drowning in its tempting fumes.

"Boss," she said, her voice at a whisper, "you can't really expect me to work with him. You know I don't agree with his tactics."

Chrollo sighed, leaning back in his chair and tucking his hands behind his head. "I know he has some… _questionable_ ways of going about things, Machi, but you have to admit the man is _good_. He always gets every ounce of the story in his pieces, and that's not something even seasoned reporters are good at. I wouldn't be sending him into the field if I didn't trust that he'd get me what I need." He sat up, letting his elbows support his weight against the desk. "And I wouldn't trust any other person to handle this job with him other than you. It can only be you, Mach."

Machi felt the heat rise up in her cheeks at the nickname he gave her, and she swallowed hard to dissipate her blush. It was to no avail, as Chrollo flashed his pearly white teeth at her sentiment.

"You know," he chuckled, pushing his body a little bit further on the desk, "Hisoka was right. You do look very pretty this morning."

 _Damn it_ , Machi thought as she felt her body coil around his index finger, the place she frequently called home, _he's got me again._

* * *

Machi rolled down the window, letting the crisp, early morning air invade the pores in her face. It was threatening to rain, as the angry gray clouds enveloped the last streaks of the sea kissed sky. She stuck her head out slightly, anything to escape the toxic fumes that Hisoka was filling the car with. She gagged from the smoke of his cigarette, the poison curdling together in her throat and dripping down like acid. Hisoka laughed at her antics.

"Oh, please, don't act so dramatic. It's just a cigarette."

"It's atrocious, is what it is. Don't you care about what you're putting in your body? Or rather, what you're forcing to be put in _mine_?"

Hisoka took a long drag, momentarily glancing over at her and taunting her with a puff of smoke. She waved off the ghost as it caressed her face, filling her eyes with sensitive tears. When the smoke cleared, she cut her eyes deeply at him, envisioning his slow demise.

"It _is_ my car, Machi. And a cigarette helps put me in the mood to do an interview."

"I could have taken the train. You all but dragged me to come with you."

"How professional would it look if we showed up separately?" He smiled sinisterly again before rolling down his window and tossing the half smoked stick out into the traffic. "You win, princess. I'll smoke on my own time."

"Thank you," Machi said dryly, rolling the window up and fixating herself properly in her seat. She maneuvered her skirt to face forward, the tiny slit giving Hisoka a small glimpse into her soft thigh. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at her flesh, the temptation to run his fingers down the small bumps on her skin all but too enticing. He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"You know, I don't know why you pay so much attention to Chrollo. I doubt that he serves you any real interest."

Machi's cheeks turned the color of cotton candy and she played with her long bangs to distract the weight that Hisoka placed in her belly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. We're friends; you can be honest with me. And I can be honest with you. You're doing yourself a great disservice."

"We are _not_ friends, so don't go pretending otherwise. We are two reporters doing a job; a job that I could completely handle by myself, if the boss would trust me more."

"Chrollo trusts two things in this world: the betterment of The Phantom Spider and himself. Don't _you_ go pretending otherwise."

Machi turned her head to gaze out the window, Hisoka's words shooting tiny bullets into her chest. She was not about to have this conversation with him, of all people. Especially when it was no secret that he didn't even fully respect Chrollo.

"What's the difference," Hisoka filled the silence, his tongue running over his teeth in consideration, "between a guy like him and a guy like me?"

"Besides the obvious?" Machi responded matter-of-factly, closing her eyes in irritation. "He's more successful than you are."

"Pssh, I could easily take over The Phantom Spider. And if Chrollo doesn't get his head out of his ass and actually _show up_ once in a while, I just may do that. At least I would communicate with my staff directly and not via a computer screen."

"As if we'd let you," Machi cut her eyes towards him, tiny daggers cutting the side of his cheek, "We would never let someone like _you_ take over the boss's company."

"Hmmm," a dangerous smile curved over his mouth, his narrow eyes squinting in mischief, "I'm willing to bet otherwise."

Machi felt her annoyance awaken like a sleeping beast lodged in her body. It coiled through her skin, until it poured out of her mouth after unspoken truths.

"The real difference," she confessed, "is that you're a tiny house cat. Territorial, stubborn and selfish, only moving to the beat of your own idiotic intentions. _He_ is a mighty lion; the leader of the pack. You could never compare."

Hisoka pouted, his milky knuckles turning red as he gripped the steering wheel. "Ouch, you're so cruel."

"Someone has to be."

The ride to the precinct, Machi internally thought, would best be spent in silence.

* * *

Illumi Zoldyk did not look like the monster that Machi had internalized.

She had expected a hardened face, full of stories and tragedy and words that exuded from his flesh like a strong cologne. She did not imagine coming meeting with a clean faced adult, his head adorned with beautiful jet black hair that was smoothed into a ponytail. He was handsome, and doubled more as a rich kid turned model than a suspected murderer. But edged in the crevices of his skin -the color of fine china and other breakable goods- were many secrets that left a bitter taste on her tongue.

The closer the duo approached the table, the more Machi was taken aback by the severity of his eyes. They were distant and cold, dark brown- almost black- irises that seemed to take up the entirety of the two craters in his face. Something lay underneath their void; a detachment to reality.

Hisoka's face was animated with amazement; his demeanor screamed that he accepted the challenge of pulling words from places that Illumi wouldn't show the sun. Illumi studied them both, an eyebrow cocked towards their presence.

"I don't need lawyers," he said automatically, his voice low and threatening.

"I beg to differ," Hisoka pulled out the seat for Machi before plopping down beside her, his sharp chin resting on the back of his hand, "but lucky for you, we're not lawyers."

"We're from The Phantom Spider," Machi interjected.

"That tacky tabloid?" Illumi scowled, looking off into the corner. "You should have just said you're lawyers."

"Now, now, no need for hostility, Mr. Zoldyk. We're just here to gather some bits to a story, and you have _quite_ the story to tell." Hisoka's eyes burned into the voids of Illumi's irises, the corners of his mouth curving into a lopsided grin.

"I have nothing to say. You watched the news, I'm sure you can figure it out."

"The news isn't reputable; you and I both know that. For example, they're calling you _insane_ and a _monster_. But you aren't either of those things, are you Illumi? With a face like that, I suppose you're simply misunderstood."

Machi peered at Hisoka out of the corner of her eye, her face twisted into a disgusted confusion. _Are we detectives or reporters? Get in your lane and stay there, Hisoka._

Illumi's eyes hazily wandered back to Hisoka's, appearing to latch on to the line that he was reeling. _Be my fish, Illumi. All you have to do is bite the bait._ "I believe you are - and excuse my language- _bullshitting_ me. That statement is just as about as believable as you pretending that red hair on your head is natural."

Machi swallowed down the laugh that threatened to escape her throat, amused by the assertiveness that Illumi was throwing towards Hisoka. _If he is in the council, I more than believe it._

"I can guarantee you, this hair color is not real. I like to rebirth myself once in a while; it's a part of my charm," he flashed him a toothy smile, one that he saved on drunken Saturday nights at the bar, "And now that we know each other better, maybe you can take what I say verbatim. I'm only here to tell your side of the story, Illumi- can I call you Illumi?"

"You already have."

"Perfect." The word slivered out of Hisoka's mouth like a snake, another indication that he was a demon in crafted sheep's clothing. "Well tell me a little bit about yourself, Illumi. I'm sure there's more to you than meets the eye."

"I am me, and right now I am bored. I'm not sure what exactly you want from me- what did you say your name was?"

"Hisoka." Hisoka leaned forward, his smile dangerous yet inviting, and leveled his head to Illumi's orange collar. "The only thing I want from you is a simple conversation. My partner here, Machi, will be recording what we talk about, if that's all right with you."

"I suppose, but as I stated, I don't know what you want from me." Illumi's eyes darted over to Machi, sizing her up and down. "You're very attractive."

Machi nodded, refusing to play into Illumi's game. _He's very careful with his answers; calculated at best. I don't know how we're going to pull anything from him. Maybe I should just jump the gun_.

"I appreciate the compliment, but I believe it would be in our best interest if we kept the focus on you, Illumi. Maybe you could start by telling us about your home life, you know, your family."

Illumi's jaw tightened as he swallowed roughly, a lump crawling slowly down his neck until it disappeared under the neon orange fabric. Machi had apparently hit a nerve, causing Illumi to crack under his carefully constructed façade. Hisoka looked at her briefly, letting his eyes radiate his congratulatory message.

"I don't have a family."

"Everyone has a family," Hisoka picked the ball back up, refusing to let Illumi score. He was determined to get this story. "Even if they aren't ideal. Hell, my family could be a part of a circus by now for all I care, but it doesn't change the fact that they exist. Why do you deny them so?"

Illumi's eyes pierced to the ground, silently cursing its existence. "I do not wish to discuss such things."

"I see." Hisoka sat back in his chair and crossed his left leg over the right. He played around with the pen in his hand, clicking and retracting the tip. His lips were pursed as he eyed Illumi carefully. "I'm sure they don't care that you're tucked away in a place like this. An exquisite porcelain doll in a jungle full of beasts. It must be hard for someone like you."

"Someone like me," Illumi repeated, "What does nonsense like that mean?"

"It means that you're pristine; pure. You don't belong here; anyone with a hint of vision can see that. Even the color of your fine skin is contrasting this dreary wall. You deserve to be in a place of rich tones and people waiting on you hand and foot. Have you ever lived such a lavish life, Illumi?"

Machi gripped the tape recorder tighter, her leg shaking slightly in irritation. _Why are you coddling this murderer, Hisoka?_

"It's possible," Illumi said dazed, "but how could you possibly know that?"

 _Bingo._ "I know a lot of things, Illumi. I know that yes, you killed those people. That's not a secret and you said so yourself. I also know that you didn't intentionally walk in there to do it, I believe you were _pushed_. A person can only take so much," Hisoka shook his pen swiftly, his fingers punching its sides as he ferociously clicked the tip until ink exploded in his hands, "until he just bursts. And considering that it's been reported that you have no _known_ criminal history, a pretty thing like you just doesn't wake up in the morning and decide to hurt people, does he?"

Illumi's eyes softened as he met the suns in Hisoka's eyes. Machi was tense, awaiting his answer. She didn't agree with half of the bullshit that Hisoka was spewing, including his blatant flirtation with Illumi, but was it possible that he was cracking the mold?

"I have never," Illumi whispered, appearing to talk to a ghost in the room rather than the pair, "hurt anyone for no reason. _Everything_ I do is for a reason; everything I have done is to help those that means the most to me."

"Who means the most to you," Machi said, softening her tone to a motherly one, "Who did you have to protect?"

Illumi's eyes darted back to the wall in defiance, his face stoic as if he realized he said too much. Hisoka turned towards her in agitation, mouthing for her to let him handle it. Machi's shoulders slumped; clearly Hisoka _did_ know what he was doing.

"Illumi," his voice came alive, coercing Illumi to meet his gaze again and lock him in with his hypnotizing eyes. It was easy considering that Illumi appeared to be in a different state of mind, and Hisoka was prepared to do whatever necessary to keep him talking. "I understand exactly what's going on here. I know _who_ you have to protect. You won't tell us about your family because of who they are and the position they hold, but I already _know_. You've bent over backwards to keep them safe, keep them happy, and I bet you they don't even acknowledge you for it. Is it wrong to assume so?"

Illumi shook his head slowly, his eyes locked into golden irises. "No, it's not wrong to assume so."

"And I bet that hurt, doesn't it?"

"You have no idea. Everything I do is in the name of family, and yet I'm looked at as if I'm horrible."

"You're not horrible," Hisoka reached over and placed his hand over Illumi's stroking his knuckles. Machi looked on in disgust. "Like I said before, you're just _misunderstood_. But I understand you, Illumi. I know it must be hard to be in the position you are, in such a prestigious family. It must be a lot of pressure."

Illumi's mouth was sealed shut, a thin line sitting directly in the center under his nose. His eyes said everything Hisoka needed to hear, but if they wouldn't escape his lips, then this was all pointless.

"It is a lot of pressure," he said quietly, "and if I had known it would all boil down to this," a tear escaped the side of Illumi's eye, his resolve appearing to break. Machi held her breath, mentally noting how his face appeared strikingly different from when they had first arrived. "I would have just finished what I started so long ago. Killua would have been better for it."

"Finish _what_?" Machi couldn't help herself, "Who is Killua? Does he have anything to do with Kukurro, Illumi?"

Her words knocked him back to the present, his face scowling again as he snatched his hand back from Hisoka. "This interview is over."

"Illumi, I believe we have so much more to-"

"I said," he scooted his chair back and rose, turning his nose down at Hisoka. "This interview is _over_. I have nothing more to say. Guard!"

The cell opened as a brute man handcuffed Illumi's hands behind his back. When Illumi disappeared again, Hisoka slammed his hand down on the table. "Dammnit!" He growled, angrily looking over to Machi. "Why did you have to say that? I almost had him!"

Machi raised her hands in defiance. "It just slipped out! He was so close, I was sure he would tell me."

Hisoka ruffled his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. "It's obvious that he _is_ on the council, but if he doesn't say it then this is a dead end. At least we have something to go off on. That name, _Killua_."

Machi nodded her head and stood. "It's a start, so I suppose we should grab some coffee and head back. It'll be a long night." She waited for Hisoka to stand before continuing, "Your methods are an absolute mockery to journalism."

He smiled and grabbed his notes. "Possibly, but they got us farther than anything _you_ had to say."

* * *

The rain pressed down into Killua's hair, soft droplets apologizing for the invasion of his otherwise dry skin. Killua has forgiven them as he lets them fall with no protection from their shower.

Gon eyed him as they walked hand in hand, his gaze desperately trying to figure out the sentences that paint themselves underneath the ocean inside his irises. Killua walked with his head down, studying the cracks in the cement as their silent strut continued; the rain acting as their only melancholy soundtrack.

Gon squeezed his hand, a silent message pouring from his fingers into Killua's palm. Killua looked up, the message magnetically heard loud and clear. His eyes were clouded with emotion, and not even his open eyed stare into the sun could brighten them.

Gon flashed him the best smile he could manage, and Killua mirrored one back, but it was clear that his tongue would not betray his sentiment. There were secrets that were locked away in his cage of a mouth and Gon wondered what-or who- held the key to pry it open.

"I was thinking," he said, voice colliding with the rain, "that I could ask Aunt Mito if you could stay the rest of the weekend. I think she'll be visiting my grandmother until Monday."

"You don't have to do that," Killua's head kept its low position, the weight in his chest crushing down like a thousand bricks, "I don't want to bombard you with my problems."

"Hey," Gon stopped, forcing Killua to pay attention to the sentiment etched in his face, "haven't you learned by now that I _care_ about your problems? You could never bombard me."

Killua sucked in air through his teeth, the sharp sound stinging his gums. "You say that because you don't know what all of this _means_."

"I don't care about that. I mean, I care about it if it affects you, but if you think that this will magically push me away or something, then you haven't been paying attention." Gon tugged on the sleeve of Killua's hoody, their foreheads coming together in an unspoken treaty. The heat that flooded Gon's face emptied into Killua's, generating a warm smile from the silver fox. Their breaths visibly mingled against the gray abyss. "I could never do that to you, Killua. You mean too much."

Killua's eyes locked on Gon's amber orbs, the truth in his words embedded in their hue. Killua imagined the brush strokes against his canvas as he mentally painted a picture of their intensity, but no color could capture their beauty. "Thank you," he said lowly, closing his eyes to keep himself composed. "For keeping me sane."

"There's no need," Gon caressed the side of Killua's face, his fingers wiping away the wet trails of rain to find the truth in his skin, "to thank me for something I _should_ be doing. You have _got_ to keep up, Killua."

Killua chuckled lightly, his eyes opening to a half lidded position to paint Gon's face in his mind. He pressed his lips to his, an electric sting tingling through to his teeth. Gon reciprocated the gesture, passing along all of his emotions into Killua's mouth.

Killua pulled away, missing the warmth as soon as he was free from the hold, smiling slightly at the heat coiling in his belly. "Okay, I'll come along."

"You will?" Gon eyed him curiously, a comical accusation expressing on his face, "was _that_ all it took to convince you?"

"No," his intentions ribboning his words, "but if I get to have _that_ to myself this weekend, then how could I say no?"

* * *

The house was empty upon their arrival; the ghost of Mito's recently departed presence lingered in the air.

She had left Gon a note, sitting next to a pot of spaghetti that was prepared for him.

_Gon,_

_I left already; I thought you would be back by now. Please give your grandmother's house a call so that I know that you're okay. You're going to make my hair gray with worry._

_I made some spaghetti to get you through the weekend (the good spaghetti and not that junk you insist on getting at that atrocious café.)_

_I'll be back Monday evening, take care of yourself and eat properly!_

_Love,_

_Aunt Mito._

Gon couldn't suppress the giggle that escaped his lips. Even through her letters, Mito's personality still shined through. He recalled Leorio reading them in a love stricken teenage phase-one that apparently had held over into his adult hood.

He turned around to see Killua studying photo frames that decorated the top of his mantle. Gon hesitated before approaching, tucking in secrets under his tongue so that he could swallow them when Killua wasn't looking.

"Who is this?" Killua pointed to a shadowed picture in the far back. It was apparent that his stoic expression was to be hidden as toothy smiles of Gon stacked in front like dominos before they fall. "You look just like him."

Gon nestled the answer that he wanted to give Killua in his mouth, washing it around from cheek to cheek before letting it spill out. Hopefully that way, by the time it came out, it was watered down and poised.

"That's my dad." It came out simplistic, void of any urgency or emotion. Killua turned slightly and stared at him, a question coloring his face.

"You've never mentioned your parents before. I thought it was just Aunt Mito."

"It is." The answers to Killua's unspoken questions cloaked itself tightly around Gon's abdomen, restricting his free will to breathe. If he wasn't careful, he would suffocate and be responsible for the cleanup. _Get it together, Gon._ "Aunt Mito is my guardian-well, she's pretty much my mother. My dad isn't in the picture."

"Clearly," Killua turned back to the metaphoric picture that lay in front of him; so many pictures of Gon and Mito sprawled in their home and his father was a lone wolf who slept in the black shadows. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, if you don't want to. I was just curious."

"It's not that, Killua, it's just-" the screeching ringing of the phone cut Gon off, much to his approval. He felt the relief blanket him in comfort as he apologetically smiled at Killua. "Be right back, it's probably Mito." He flew out of the room at such ferocity that Killua was left with the dust of unresolved angst falling through the spaces in between his fingers.

 _I wonder_ , he inquired, studying the darkened picture again, _what it is about the topic that makes him that frazzled? Is that the story?_

Killua plopped down in the sofa, feeling his weight sink in to the cushions. He let out a long sigh and drew his head back against the pillows, letting the feelings that he neglected wash over him finally. _How could you be so stupid, Illumi? I'm not sure if I'm surprised or disappointed, but do you understand what you have just done? Do you even care?_

As he lost himself in his troubled thoughts, Gon walked back into the room, taking a seat on the empty place next to Killua. He shifted slightly, placing an elbow on the back of the couch and resting his head on his head, facing him. Killua stared at the ceiling as if he were mapping out phantom constellations that littered about. Gon took in the sight, wanting to dig deeply inside of Killua and breathe life back into his soul. As if he had the power to fix when he himself is broken.

"Killua," he treaded lightly, "do you want to talk about it?"

Killua shook his head before turning and capturing Gon's gaze, his fatigue mapped under his eyes like art work. He forced a small smile to let Gon know he was all right, even if every time he breathed it felt like fire was dancing in his lungs.

"On Monday," he breathed, "I know that I'll have to deal with this. I'll go home and it'll be written on the walls like graffiti. There'll be no escaping it then. But for now," he grabbed Gon's palm and brought it to his lips, imprinting his name on the flesh that covered it, "I want to take a vacation from all things Zoldyk. For now, I just want to be Killua, who gets to have some time with Gon."

Gon smiled, removing his palm to play with the silk of Killua's hair. "That sounds fantastic. Mito called; she just couldn't wait to make sure I'm alive. I told her that I stayed over at Kurapika's."

"Does she know that I'm here too?"

Gon nodded, a peaceful smile stealing his mouth. "Aunt Mito likes you. She says you're good for me."

Killua pressed his lips to his skin again, lingering longer past the normalcies. "Little does she know," he spoke against the skin, "that it's the other way around."

"You're cute," Gon smiled as he closed his eyes, "I never would have thought you could say such cute things. You're so emo at heart."

Killua chuckled, the vibrato making its way to Gon's ear and sleeping there so that he could listen to it as he went to sleep. "You're an idiot, Freecs, but I dig it." He sighed again, leaning back on the couch, his fingers still laced with Gon's like chains, resting on top of his chest. "I wish Monday didn't have to come at all."

"I bet. I wouldn't want to go home to that either."

"Well, yeah…it's that and," Killua stopped, carefully choosing the words that he knew would hurt the teen sitting next to him.

"What? I don't like that tone, Killua."

He took in a deep breath, his cheeks filling up like a chubby infant, before releasing it as if were a poisonous gas. "On Monday, I have to return to my old school."

Gon's hand dropped from their embrace, his body scooting closer until his knee poked daggers into Killua's thigh. His facial expression was one that Killua did want to engrain in his memory, so he kept his gaze focused above.

"What do you mean _have to_? Why are you going back anyways?"

"Because," the truth to that question made its way to the front of Killua's lips, but he tucked it into his cheek, a lie spiraling past it, "I just have to."

"That's not enough of a reason, Killua. I can't accept that."

"My mother," he began slowly, "is forcing me to do it. She and my father talked the other morning and I have no choice."

Gon's eyes were opened in disbelief, his face the epitome of what happens when the sun sleeps behind the moon. "That's not the Killua I know. The Killua I know is more defiant than that."

"The Killua you know doesn't have a choice."

"Killua," Gon's voice was firm, yet gentle, an approach to coax the honesty that slept in Killua's brain, "it can't be that simple. There's something you're not telling me."

"I'm telling you all that I can tell you Gon; all that _I_ know. Anything outside of that, I can't. If I could," he finally turned, his eyes shifting until they settle on the humanity that was lodged in Gon's irises, "then I would tell you."

Gon lifted his pinky finger, his face hardened. "You have to promise, Killua."

Killua looked at the finger that challenged him, lingering in the air like an unspoken threat. "Are you seriously making me _pinky_ promise?"

Gon snatched Killua's pinky with his own, coiling around it like thread, no intentions to let go. "I take them seriously. So you have to promise me that if there is anything else, you will tell me the moment that you know."

Killua swallowed hard, hoping that his true feelings wouldn't break his resolve. _It wouldn't exactly be a lie._ "I promise," he whispered, "that anything I know, you will know too."

This seemed to appease Gon, his face settling into a natural grin that Killua dreamed about a night. "Good, now you have to keep it or swallow a thousand needles."

"How old are you again, Gon?"

Gon chuckled, his pinky still intertwined with Killua's. "My Aunt Mito and I pinky promise all of the time. We Freecs don't mess around with that."

"Whatever you say." Killua looked down at his lap, another memory surfacing. His face betrayed his resolve and Gon sighed when he noticed the change in demeanor.

"What now, Killua? It hasn't even been five minutes."

"There's just one more thing, Gon. And it's pretty terrible, but you have to promise you won't get mad."

Gon closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

"After high school, there is a chance that, I'll have to marry Rozlyn."

The silence that engulfed the air threatened to suffocate them both.

Gon sat still, his gaze burning a hole in Killua's cheek. Killua's stoic face remained glued to the carpet under his feet, as if they were posing for a painting. A small moan escaped Gon's lips, the miniscule sound adding to the already tense environment.

"You _can't_ ," his said, voice thick, "you just _can't_."

"Gon-"

"No," Gon's face dropped with a voice barely above a whisper, his pinky pressing harder into Killua's flesh leaving behind angry pink marks, " _No_. Killua, I can live without you going to the same high school. It would suck, but I could do it. But there's no way I could live with that."

Killua's stomach felt heavy as if he was being punched. The severity of Gon's tone was crippling. He expected him to get mad, not sound broken.

"Killua, you have to tell them that you _can't_."

"I tried, Gon."

"Try harder!" Gon's voice climbed several octaves, his balled hands punching down in his lap creating an angry sound. He breathed deeply, trying to maintain some ounce of dignity. But how can he do that, when he's already jumped off of the cliff as if he's insane?

"Gon," Killua turned his head, hot tears flashing in his eyes before he blinked them away, "if you _really_ understood, then you would know that I have—"

"Don't say that again, Killua!" This time, tears are racing down Gon's cheeks like lava, and Killua doesn't need to turn to see it. The quavering in his voice gave it away and Killua felt a choke in his throat. "Don't tell me that you _have_ to. Why," his voice broke completely and Killua wanted to reach out and glue it back together, "why did you even catch me if you were going to let me fall anyways?"

"It's not like that," Killua stated ashamed, "I don't want to hurt you, Gon."

"This _hurts_ Killua. You're sitting here telling me that you're going to _marry_ someone else? Marry her? Someone you don't even know? Where does that leave me, Killua? We graduate in a year! I know that we aren't anything official, but," Gon stopped, taking a deep breath in composition. "I'm sorry."

Killua turned briskly, shock layering his face. " _You're_ sorry? Why are you apologizing, idiot?"

"Because," Gon looked at him with sincerity, a river pouring out of his eyes and staining his cheeks, "maybe I'm not being fair. Maybe I'm involved too deeply in this, and you never told me that you wanted me in that way. So I'm sorry that I'm being unfair."

"Gon-"

"No, Killua. I'm _sorry_. We kissed and, then last night at Kurapika's, and I always tell you how much you mean to me, and I didn't realize I was putting pressure on you. I'm so selfish sometimes. I love someone and I smother them with my love and they pull away, so maybe I loved you too hard before you were ready and-"

Killua pressed a finger tightly to Gon's lips to lock in the secrets that were spilling out. His eyes were glazed over, and he blinked to gain some sense of focus. "What did you just say?"

The apples of Gon's cheeks never looked as ripe as he realized his confession. He wanted to pull the words back inside and cage them like the wild beasts that they were.

"Gon," Killua's voice was firm and unmoving, "What did you just say?"

Gon looked bashfully away, now afraid to mutter the words that had shown up uninvited. Now they circled around them like fireflies, reminding of their presence and unforgiving in their weight. It was too late to take it back.

"I said," he looked at Killua again, swallowing before speaking, "that I love you."

It was all Killua needed to hear.

He replaced his finger with his mouth, his tongue forcing Gon's lips apart and searching for other secrets that he kept inside of the spaces of his teeth. Gon struggled to keep up, his hands madly clutching on to Killua's shirt, pulling him closer with impatience. Their bodies threatened to collide in to one atom, and neither cared if they combusted from the explosion.

Killua explored the insides of Gon's mouth anxiously, as if he had never tasted sweet freedom before. All of the answers to his troubles were spilling into his hands like running water and he rushed to scoop it back up.

Gon moaned as Killua painted over Gon's tongue with his own, his hands moving over sculpted chests and toned abdomens. Gon tasted of the sweet nectar of a melon and Killua planned on savoring every last drop.

He pulled back swiftly, watching the intricately crafted sculpture underneath him struggle to catch his breath. Gon's lips were swollen, face flushed, and Killua felt dizzy as he marveled his creation of a beautiful mess.

Gon pressed his lips back on Killua's, disliking the way the draft of the room felt when he left his body. Now that he had seen what happened when fire collided with ice, he couldn't go back to being a lone element.

Gon's fingers fumbled against Killua's clothing, messy and tangled and lost but with a purpose, stopping as soon as he reached the buckle of his belt. Killua slowly pulled his lips away, sucking on Gon's bottom lip before looking down at his hand.

"Gon," he breathed, voice low and deep and aroused, "do you know what you're doing? With your hand, do you know what you're doing?"

"No," Gon whispered, "I don't. I've never done anything like this before, but it feels so natural. It _has_ to be you, Killua. It can only be you."

Killua smiled, biting his lips at the radiant glow that became Gon's face. "I've never done anything like this before either."

"Then let's," Gon reached out for another small kiss, "venture to the unknown together."

Killua pressed his forehead against Gon's, his breath creating tiny sparks against Gon's lips, his hands gripping the back of emerald black hair and pushing it forward. "Tell me again."

Gon settled his eyes steady, wanting Killua to feel everything that lie dormant beneath tanned skin. "I _love_ you, Killua."

"I love you too, Gon."

The corners of Gon's mouth stretched so wide that they threatened to stick that way, glowing brighter than the celestial sphere that was setting. His hand reached up to caress the side of Killua's face, touching him as if would dissipate into smoke right in front of his eyes.

"Let's go to my room, Killua."

* * *

By the time they lay in the comfort of Gon's bed, clothes were already detached and lips were already exploring. Killua found out that his name was permanently drawn on Gon's skin, and he tasted it every time his tongue danced on the flesh. Gon's fingers laced in his hair, completely able to lose himself in the pleasurable bliss.

Killua continued to map out the stars on Gon's chest, tracing every constellation of his nipples to his belly button. Gon's hips arched upwards as he teased his waistline, his underwear still in an unnecessary predicament. Killua rose back up and wrote his name again, this time on Gon's tongue, marking his spot so that no other could nestle in its cave and seep out of his lips. It was like Gon said, _it can only be you_.

His hand made its way downward, sneaking past the tight elastic waistline of his briefs, softly running his finger over the tip of Gon's bulge. Gon broke at the butterfly touch, his mouth temporarily leaving its locked home to create a sweet sound that makes Killua's heart beat faster.

Killua used it as motivation, his palm circling around the base with just enough room to move it up and down. He teased, going slowly uuuup and doooown until Gon whimpered, urging him to move faster. The tip was slicked with preconceived wetness, and Killua used it as lubrication so that he didn't hurt him with his swiftness.

Gon moaned louder, Killua's name coming out in hushed murmurs as if his name was a secret he didn't want to defile. Killua locked his lips around Gon's bottom, his hand never stopping its crescendo. Gon's hips met his movements, his body being lit like fireworks. Killua knew it was only a matter of time before he exploded in the sky, leaving a colorful trail to find him in case he got lost in nirvana.

Killua became so fixated on Gon's own pleasure that he failed to notice a hand slip through the slit in his boxers, grabbing ahold of his own erection and repeating the same mannerisms. He froze against the heated epithelium of Gon's lips, his body quickly adjusting to the warm softness of Gon's hand.

They began to breathe into each other's mouths, each one relishing in the delight of the pleasure, the rapidness of hands going up and down increasing in speed.

"Wait, Gon," Killua forced out breathlessly, biting his climax back and threatening his body to listen, "I don't want to come yet."

"Why not," Gon ran his tongue down the curve in Killua's neck, causing him to shiver, "don't you like this Killua?"

"I _love_ this," he whispered, "but I want to know what it's like to be _inside_ you."

Gon's eyes widened, the apparent hesitation of being entered as a virgin resonating clear. But the more that he thought about it, the more he wondered what kind of bliss he could taste when Killua and he were connected as one?

He nodded his head, kissing Killua again before turning over on his stomach. "I'm ready," he breathed against the sheets.

Killua could not force back a laugh, reaching down to kiss in between his shoulder blades. "I don't think it works like that, Gon."

Gon looked back, innocence swimming in his irises. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I would hurt you, I think, if I just _did_ that. I think you have to be prepared."

"Oh, I'm plenty prepared."

"Not like that, idiot. I mean," he put a finger in his mouth, letting his saliva moisten it before leaning down to the cusp of Gon's ear, " _I_ have to prepare you."

He started off slowly, pressing against his opening before gradually putting his finger in. Gon winced underneath his weight, and Killua kissed the back of his neck for reassurance, running his tongue to his shoulder blade. Gon relaxed afterwards, as Killua guided more of his middle finger. He relished how warm he felt, his bulge throbbing at anticipation of finding home inside of him.

Gon moaned, adjusting to the familiarity. Killua was a bit of a gambling man, and he treaded the water by pressing another finger to the opening. Gon winced again at the intrusion, but relaxed as Killua gave his other finger company. Gon was losing himself now, his mind becoming hazy as colors paraded underneath his eyelids. Gon became Killua's canvas, his fingers creating brushstrokes to create the ravishing art.

"Killua," Gon was untangling, waiting for the final tug of the string that would leave him unraveled at the seams, "I want you."

Killua graced his skin with another kiss before turning Gon's head sideways and kissing him deeply. He lifted himself up, unable to contain himself any longer. "Are you ready?"

"Please, I'm ready."

That was more than he needed to hear.

Killua had never done drugs; never saw the appeal of being clouded in a high, but maybe now he understood.

Gon felt like home, his body had made the necessary adjustments for him to cuddle away from the dangers of the world, and it was a welcoming escape.

He had never felt this heat before, not even when he first looked into the sun and wasn't blinded by the light. Not when the moon settled and he was forced to sleep under the fire of his emotions. This heat was more than a bodily arousal; every inch of him, even the insides where Gon's name slept so peacefully, was screaming for more of Gon, if it were possible.

He wanted to breathe him, inhale his intoxicating fumes and become dizzy with the lightheadedness that engulfed his head. He didn't care anymore how much it would hurt on the way down; he would break himself if it meant that falling would land him here all over again.

He _loved_ him; his mind said it with such clarity and rawness and relief that he said it over and over again until he saw the words like neon lights. The harder he thrust inside, the more vivid the words became. Gon was a maddening fool under his weight, his hand crushing the sheets in a balled fist, the other wrapped tightly around Killua.

Killua couldn't stop even if he wanted to, and it wasn't even the sex. It was the fact that it was sex, with _Gon_.

Gon's name rolled around on his tongue, every letter leaving a sweet taste behind, coating his pink snake like honey. He couldn't keep it to himself, and his mouth stretched open as it spilled out like it was the only word he was trained to know. It came out so marvelously, as if he -and only he- was made to say it.

Gon mumbled his name in retaliation, his climax just teetering over the edge. "Killua, I can't hold back anymore, is that okay?"

"Together," Killua said in between his three letter phrase, "let's do it together." He dropped his weight and wrapped his hand around Gon's pulsating erection, moving swiftly to bring him to the border with him. It wasn't long before the white flashes consumed the both of them, their bodies having their fill and collapsing from a pleasured exhaustion.

Killua removed himself, laying on the side of Gon and stroking his face, Gon's half lidded eyes smiling with serenity. He kissed his forehead, and then down to his lips, and to anywhere else he felt like he needed to taste.

"Killua," Gon sleepily said, his eyes blinking slower and slower, "that was amazing."

"Good," he said as his lips parted from his cheek, "and ditto."

"But," Gon's eyes fluttered open once more, becoming more serious, "what are we going to do?"

Killua looked up at him, wrapping his arm underneath Gon's neck and bringing his body closer with the other locking his waist tight. He pressed his chin into Gon's hair, circling him into a hug that was safe and territorial.

"Don't worry," he breathed with unsure certainty, "we'll figure it out."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT: THIS CHAPTER TITLE WAS ORIGINALLY GOING TO BE CALLED KILLUA & GON, BUT THAT'S JUST A LITTLE TOO OBVIOUS. :P
> 
> JUST WANT TO REMIND EVERYONE, THAT THESE SWEET, SWEET BABIES, ARE 18.
> 
> BTW, OOOOH….ITS A LITTLE HOT IN HERE ;)
> 
> IN ALL SERIOUSNESS, I WAS DEBATING IF I WANTED TO INCLUDE THIS CHAPTER IN THE FIC, BECAUSE I WANTED TO FOCUS MORE ON THE LOVE THAN THE SEXUAL. BUT, JUST LIKE ANYONE IN LOVE, EXPRESSING HOW MUCH YOU FEEL ABOUT A PERSON ONLY TEETERS INTO A MORE PHYSICAL ASPECT. AND LETS BE HONEST, THERE'S NO WAY THAT THESE GUYS CAN KEEP THEIR HANDS OFF OF EACH OTHER. (PLUS I LIVE FOR KILLUGON LOVE, SO I HAD TO PROVIDE SOME FLUFF. WHY MAKE THESE BABIES WAIT ANY LONGER TO DECLARE IT, THEY HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS GOING ON.)
> 
> I WANT TO TAKE THIS TIME OUT RIGHT NOW TO THANK EVERYONE FOR THEIR COMMENTS. IVE READ THEM ALL, AND YOU GUYS DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH IT MEANS. IM NOT SURE IF YOU ALL ARE FIC WRITERS YOURSELVES, BUT GETTING CRITIQUE ON YOUR WORK IS THE BEST. NOT ONLY IS IT SOOOO DELIGHTFUL TO HEAR SOMEONE APPRECIATES YOUR WORK, BUT ITS ALSO MOTIVATION FOR ME TO KEEP BUSTING OUT THESE CHAPTERS FOR YOU GUYS. (MAYBE A LITTLE MOTIVATION FOR YOU TO KEEP COMMENTING, EH?) ;)
> 
> WE'RE NOT TOOOOO FAR FROM THE ENDING, BUT STILL A NICE WAY TO GO. THERE WAS GOING TO BE MORE TO THIS CHAPTER, BUT ITS ALREADY SO LONG, (WORD COUNT 9,300+!) AND I WANTED TO GIVE THESE GUYS THEIR…AHEM…TIME TO SHINE.
> 
> ALSO, HOORAY FOR HISOKA AND MACHI AND WHOEVER THE HELL ELSE WANTS TO SHOW UP FROM THE TROUPE. (HUGE HISOKA FAN, FTW!) TO ANYONE WHO ASKED IF HE'S GOING TO BE AROUND, HE'S HERE, AND PLAN ON HIM BEING IMPORTANT.
> 
> OKAY IM SORRY FOR THE LONG RANT, ILL LET YOU GUYS GO NOW. PLEASE COMMENT YOUR CARES AND CONCERNS, AND I HOPE I DID THIS CHAPTER SOME JUSTICE (PROB MY FAV SO FAR) AND I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT.
> 
> TILL NEXT TIME, FRIENDS,
> 
> -BITCHII~USA


	10. Ten: Secrets

_**Ten** _

_**Secrets** _

If Machi had things her way, she would have spent the weekend cuddled in a blanket on her couch, a book nestled in her lap and her lips still tingling from the sweet wine she kept in her cupboard. When her eyes became dizzy from the black and white print, she would've ordered a movie in- a romantic one of course, the kind that she pretended to scoff at with Feitan- and imagined herself replacing the main character, a love stricken Chrollo desperately trying to win her affection.

Instead, she had spent the rest of her 'time off' under the sickening weight of Hisoka, going back and forth about angles for their story that they hadn't come up with yet. Her head was pounding with the unescapable loop of finding _anything_ about Illumi Zoldyk, and a half bottle of Tylenol didn't seem to ease the tension that lined the layer of skin on her face.

It was now Monday morning, and they were no closer to any answers than they were in their interview with Illumi on Saturday. Machi looked up from the computer, eyes glancing with tension over at the fire haired comrade across the desk. Hisoka's eyes were married with the light, his yellow irises glowing more profoundly as he read the text in front of him.

_If he wasn't such a piece of trash, he might actually be considered to be attractive._

Hisoka looked up, meeting her gaze and smiling as if the words in her head had trickled down to his computer screen. "You know, Machi, when you look at me like that-"

"Don't," she interrupted, lips pursing, "whatever crap you're going to say, just don't."

He shrugged, although his eyes never left hers, and placed a finger on his lips. "My secret, then."

She rolled her eyes, shaking off the sarcasm that littered her thoughts and decided best that dealing with Hisoka meant that she should practice the art of silence. Instead she furiously typed into the search engine, spelling out the familiarity that was Illumi's surname. The page reloaded, words blanketed in purple and taunting her, a reminder that she had already been there and done that. She sighed, defeat plaguing her shoulders, and pushed back against the chair.

"I'm beginning to think," she said softly, "that this is pointless."

"Don't give up so soon," Hisoka replied, his gaze still studying the screen, "that's not the kind of journalist you'd want to be."

"Who the hell are you to tell me what kind of journalist I need to be?" Machi crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, striking daggers into the sharp lines of Hisoka's forehead.

"The kind that gets information because he doesn't give up. Besides you never know when..." his voice trailed off, his eyes illuminating the room as the shot open. " _Aaaah._ "

Machi's curiosity was aroused as she straightened up in her chair, her lips parted slightly. "What? Did you find something?"

"A small something," the corners of his mouth twisted upwards in a sly grin, "but something none the less. You see? My tactics are good for something."

"Well?" Machi motioned her hands forward, a gesture for continuance, "what is it? Don't make me wait."

"I love it when you're assertive," he slithered, "It makes you so _sexy_."

"Out with it already, Hisoka."

"Well," he turned his laptop to her, a photo plastered on the screen, "the name that he gave us _finally_ provided a match."

"Killua? I thought you said it was a dead end?"

"I thought so too," he commented through pursed lips, "but I got a nagging feeling that I needed to dig a little deeper. Something I'm sure your lover boy Chrollo isn't accustomed to. I get the feeling he never has the sense to dig deeper with any of his tools."

Machi blushed the lightest shade of pink as anger pirouetted across her face. "One day," she threatened, "I am going to gather all my energy and punch you in that smug face of yours."

"Please," he smiled, "don't threaten me with a good time. Anyways, I didn't find much on Mr. Killua; his records are just as bit as dry as Illumi's. _But,_ " he pointed at the screen, his sharp nail pin pointing the text underneath the photo, "it appears that Killua recently enrolled in Yorkshin High School. And the school keeps a class roster online for public consumption. Funny thing is, many people tried to petition for the school to keep that information tucked away for privacy reasons. But Yorkshin, being the eccentric little plum of a school it is, decided against it -even battled it out in court- so that students can look back on their time spent there forever. A virtual yearbook, of sorts, it dates all the way back to 1972."

"Well," Machi breathed, astounded, "thank god for the law." Her eyes skimmed over the print, squinting to read the tiny text. "Senior, blah blah blah, no clubs, no activities, just transferred two months ago. Kid must not care about his future much."

" _Or,_ he can't put himself out there too much. Which is understandable _if_ you're part of such a mysterious family."

"So what are you thinking? Another son? The brother of Illumi?"

" _Precisely_." Hisoka ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting the sweetness of the truth coating the top of his tongue. "Killua _Zoldyk_. Not a common last name, so I'm more than positive he's at least a brother."

Machi lifted her hands in the air, feeling the satisfaction crawl against her limbs like spiders. "If he is, then we've got a hell of a lead. Who better to interview than the brother himself?"

"Well," Hisoka stood, glancing at the clock on the wall and tucking his laptop back in its bag, "school starts in about 45 minutes. We should hurry along, if we want to catch him before he has English."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Gon's hand squeezed tightly against Killua's, a plea for him to stay leaping from his fingers and into the knuckles of Killua's flesh. Killua sighed, avoiding the hypnosis of honeycomb eyes, instead focusing on a bird as it sang above them.

"I don't _want_ to do this, but-"

"You have to," Gon said somberly, "I know." A low rumble thickened in the back of his throat, which he tried to hide with a smile, but the sound resonated in Killua's ears, forcing him to turn his way.

"Hey," he said softly, lifting his chin, "don't do that."

"I can't help it, Killua. This weekend was…. _amazing_ …and it sucks knowing that I can't have you here with me."

A smile softly lined the corners of Killua's mouth, hearing Gon reiterate the same sentiment that had carved its way into his bones and radiated throughout his skin with every step. "It won't be that bad, I promise." He leaned closer so that his head rested against the top of Gon's hair, tiny black hairs tickling his chin. "You just have to make it through today."

" _Just_ today?" Gon replied somberly, "Is your mother going to allow _just_ today?"

"Fuck her," Killua spat, his head lowering to meet Gon's gaze again, his eyes spilling all of his words before his lips could form around the syllables, "I'm going to do it."

"Do what?"

"I'm going to tell her that I'm _not_ going along with her shitty plan. I'm going to tell her she can go to hell, for all I care. I'm going to tell her… _anything_ to get her off of my back so that I can get back to the things that matter."

"And that is?"

Killua chuckled, playfully patting Gon on the back of the head. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Gon's, a promise sleeping between their flesh. "You're such an idiot, you know that? As if I have to tell you again. Either that, or you're completely vain."

"Maybe a little bit of both?" Gon laughed, his breath tingling against Killua's lips. "You said _things_ that matter. I know I'm one of them, but what's the other?"

Killua's eyes popped open, unaware that his words curled out of his mouth like vomit, making a mess out of a situation that he adamantly tried to keep pristine. He searched the inside of his mouth for the answer, even though the truth sat at the opening to his throat, ready to unveil itself.

"My sister," he said matter of factly, "I need to take care of her."

Gon nodded, as if the answer was one he was expecting all along. Perhaps, he knew it was there, the topic nestling between them whenever their bodies touched, the question leaping from Gon's mouth and landing into Killua's chest. "I never asked, because I didn't want to violate your privacy, but I _have_ to know, Killua. Why is she hidden like that?"

Killua sucked in the air, tasting the cold morning that blanketed them. "I feel it," he mumbled, "No; I _know_ that the time is coming when you'll have all of the answers you want. But right now, I can't answer that. I'm just not ready to talk about it. You just have to trust me, and when the time comes, you have to promise me that you won't abandon me."

"I would _never_ ," Gon stated, his words carrying the weight of bricks, "do that to you. I would _never_ abandon anyone that I love."

Something lay dormant under his speech, a taste that was familiar and distant all at once, and Killua wasn't sure why it struck a chord inside of him. He had a feeling - one that was coiling deeply in his belly and moving around like a snake - that he wasn't the only one who was nearing the end of keeping secrets. The truth was swimming in the black pit of Gon's eye, and Killua could almost see a portrait of a pained memory, but Gon blinked and gone with it were the remains of mystery.

The bell rang, interrupting their secluded moment, and only then did they notice the loud chatter of students as they assembled into Yorkshin. Gon looked towards the entrance of the school and inhaled deeply, pulling Killua by the waist and burying his face into his neck. "Well," he mumbled into his pale flesh, "I guess I'd better get going."

Killua returned the embrace, wishing badly that he could cross the threshold of the entrance and gag at the atrocity of lemon floor cleaner smells. Instead he settled for the woodsy scent of Gon, hugging him tighter. "Wait for me after school, okay? I'll be by the tree in back, and we can go hang out. I just have to talk with my parents first and figure out all of this Illumi mess."

Gon brought his face to his, the sun peeking through the pores of his cheeks. It brought out a natural smile from Killua, warming him from the brisk almost-November winds. "Well then," Gon said through his curved lips, "that will give me something to look forward to."

Killua instinctively pressed his lips to Gon's, letting the heat from his skin stain his pale lips, tasting the sweetness of his tongue. He savored it, tucking it away in his cheeks so that he could taste him when they parted. He pulled away, squeezing the hug once more. "Just have a good day, okay? And tell Zushi I said hello."

"Will do." Gon slowly released himself from the embrace, until the last contact they had were their fingers slipping away from the others. He walked a short distance before turning around, his face speaking before his mouth parted. "I love you, Killua. And everything will be okay."

"I'm glad you think so, Gon. And I love you too."

Gon smiled brightly, as if it was the first time Killua had fixed his lips around the phrase, even though they spent the weekend saying the words as if they were infants learning it for the first time. He watched him as he ascended the stairs, studying his white shirt and native sack until he blended in with the rest of the students.

He sighed, feeling a piece of him walking away too, but remembered the mission that he had to keep.

"Killua?"

He turned at the unfamiliar voice towards a man and a woman that stood a short distance from the school. He squinted his eyes and tried to go over in his memory if he had seen them before, realizing that they were new faces.

"Killua Zoldyk?" The man spoke, his flamboyant red hair swaying in the wind and intruding his golden irises. Even from this distance, Killua could see that they were as golden as the sun when it slept for the day, before father moon came to illuminate the darkness.

"Do I know you?" Killua said.

"Not yet," the man stepped closer, the light-pink haired woman at his side mimicking his steps. She was carrying a notebook and cradling a pen at her thigh. "But I hope that will change soon."

"Look man," Killua said darkly, his walls rising at the risk of a threat, "I don't know what you want, but I don't have anything for you."

"Please excuse his bad manners," the woman intervened, her voice soothing with honey, "we're not here on bad purposes. We just wanted to talk to you."

"About what? You're approaching me like you're the police or something."

"Police? No, nothing like that. Perhaps," she smiled, raising her hand like a white flag of truce, "we should introduce ourselves. My name is Machi, and this is my partner Hisoka. We're reporters with The Phantom Spider."

"The Phantom Spider?" Killua rubbed his chin, "You mean the tabloid?"

"We're more than a tabloid," Hisoka spoke, smiling in a way that put Killua on edge, "we consider ourselves a news outlet, except we don't associate with the boring columns that you can find in The Yorkshin Gazette."

"Uh huh," Killua replied, "so what does this have to do with me?"

"Nothing," Machi said, stepping closer and oozing out a comforting embrace, "well, I should say nothing _yet_. We're here to ask you some questions about an Illumi Zoldyk."

Killua froze, the words splashing his face and burning his skin like acid. _There's no way they could know_. He tried his best to put on his poker face, using information that was already available to the public.

"You mean that monster from Blimps? Why do you want to talk to me about that?"

"That monster from Blimps," Hisoka repeated, the sentence sprawling out like cool marble over his tongue, "is that _all_ he is to you?"

Killua swallowed harshly, stepping to the side to escape them. Machi moved slightly, appearing to shift her weight unto the other foot, but blocking him in. Whatever they wanted, whatever they _knew_ , they were adamant about getting it from Killua. He felt his neck tense and sweat beads appear at the back of his hairline. He touched the area swiftly, as if he could contain the perspiration.

"Why would he be anything more?"

"Well for starters," Hisoka looked down at the paper in front of him, pretending to soak in the information that he already knew, "you two have the same last name. And I don't go door to door or anything, but I'm willing to bet a year's salary that the name Zoldyk isn't very common. In fact, it's so uncommon, that you're the only thing that came up when I searched for it. I mean, other than Illumi's crimes, of course."

Killua felt his tongue swell with a lie, but when he went to part his lips, he realized they were glued shut. Lying, or rather not telling the whole truth, was affixed to him like the prints on his thumb, so why was he having such a difficult time doing it now?

Was it because, _maybe_ , he was tired from running from something that always followed closely behind?

Hisoka took his silence as a positive, probing further. "To be quite honest, I would have never known to search for you if Illumi hadn't told me about you himself."

"What do you mean?" Killua whispered, his thoughts in a daze.

"Well, Machi and I went to interview him over the weekend. Saturday, to be specific. And boy, did he have a _lot_ to say. Not much about Blimps, but about so _many_ other things. Like his home life, his family secrets, and well, _you_."

Machi shuffled, feeling the same pressure she felt in the jail when Hisoka worked his - _charm_? - to get the answers he needed. She wasn't used to having to sweeten her words on the edge of the truth to get information; she relied solely on the ' _just the facts, ma'am'_ of journalism. Maybe Hisoka went to a different college and learned different tactics, and she still wasn't sure which line she wanted to cradle.

Killua's mouth moved without his permission, speaking before he had time to assess. "What did he say?"

Hisoka smiled slyly. _Gotcha._ "He kept talking about how important it was for him to protect you by doing what he did. He told us that he would do it all over again if he had to, and he would completely go through with it if it meant that you would be safe in the end. He spoke of how _frustrating_ life is in his position, how _stressful_ it can be being in his shoes. I almost feel bad for the poor guy."

That was what sent Killua over the edge.

Anger rose in him like a python, slithering its way from his shoes to the tips of his silver hair, bursting from him like volcano fire. His eyes darkened to the iciest shade of blue, and Machi reached over to touch Hisoka's arm to prevent herself from being frozen by their gaze. "There is no way in hell," Killua spoke dangerously, his words dripping with venom, "that you or _anyone_ needs to feel sorry for that asshole."

Hisoka feigned a look of sympathy, reaching down in his pocket and returning with a white card. "I said _almost_. Look, I'm here to write a story on what happened and _why_ , and I don't feel like I'm getting everything from Illumi. I feel like he's playing victim, which isn't uncommon among sociopaths. I believe," he looked over his notes, "that's what the psychologist at the jail has determined him to be, a bona fide sociopath. And I, in my long line of journalism, believe that you can't know a person until you know the ones around him. So," he handed the card to Killua, his name and number littering the front, "when you want to tell _your_ side, show the world who Illumi _really_ is, you give me a call. We have to go now, Killua." He turned towards Machi, nodding in the opposite direction and walking away, leaving a stunned and angry Killua under the bare branches of the tree.

When they were far enough, Machi tugged on Hisoka's windbreaker. "Sociopath? You don't know that!"

"Maybe not," he quipped, "but that kid surely believes so. It didn't take much to figure out that Killua Zoldyk is not the biggest fan of Illumi. Or, should I say, not a fan _at all_."

"How do you even know that? How do you fish for something if you don't even know if it likes the bait? What if he doesn't call you?"

"Simmer down, sweet Machi," Hisoka pat the side of her hand before she harshly removed it from his grasp. "He _will_ call, because if he even has a _hint_ that Illumi is playing victim, then he will want to destroy the serpent's tongue. As for how I know," he looked towards Machi, a grin splitting expression emerging, "why, I could write an entire novel from the words that were painted on his face."

* * *

The air inside of the Zoldyk mansion was uncomfortably stale, tension hanging above like a scorned spirit, fangs ready to attack.

Killua shivered at the coldness as he made his way through, greeted by an unwelcomed silence. Usually Kikyo would have some sort of music protruding through the speakers to greet anyone who crossed the threshold, which almost made Killua feel somewhat at home, but today, in this hour, there was nothing.

"Hello?" He called out, hearing his voice bounce off of the walls and splatter onto the lush carpeting. If he did not know this was precisely his home, he would have figured the estate to be unoccupied.

"Hello?" He called again, hearing a faint voice from upstairs. It was a woman's, of course belonging to Kikyo.

He wished that only Kalluto was home, so that he could have a legitimate excuse from running away from his problems. But knowing the way that his family operated, Kalluto was more than likely kept in the dark, thinking Illumi was on some sort of extended vacation.

He wondered if Kalluto even bothered to turn on the television.

Making his way up the spiral staircase, Killua began to feel dizzy. Partly due to his counting of the black iron steps and partly due to the nagging anxiety of what was to come.

No matter the scenario, no matter how hot the furnace of Kikyo's eyes burned, he had to think of Alluka and Gon, and he had to do what needed to be done.

He found Kikyo and Silva in their study, two bodies that appeared to be lifeless. Kikyo stared out of the window, her eyes fixated on a sole cloud that painted the early sky. Silva directed his attention to the fine threaded stitching in his rug; one that Illumi had gifted him merely a year ago. He fiddled around with his wedding band, almost as if he were uncertain if he should wear the thing anymore, and Killua wondered if the gesture was a foreshadow of things to come.

Neither of them noticed his presence, rather if they did they were too focused in their own thoughts to look up. Killua could see Kikyo's eyes brimming with tears, and for the first time in a while, they appeared to be genuine.

He cleared his throat, catching the reluctant attention from his parents. Silva's eyes softened as he studied in Killua's features. The silver hair that he had passed down, those pale blue eyes that reminded him of winter, his snow complexion, the wise-beyond-his-years maturity that peeked through the lines in his skin. The more that he marveled at his child, the more his eyes began to relax.

"Son," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's good to see you."

Killua nodded, looking down at the floor so he could pretend his knees weren't buckling at the complexity of Silva's emotion. "Yeah, I needed to get away this weekend."

Silva nodded, his eyes still embraced with the hair that hung over Killua's forehead. "I don't suppose I need to ask you if you've heard the news."

"I did." Killua sighed, forcing his feet to make their way to the small couch in the corner so that he could see both of their faces directly. "Have either of you gone to see him?"

A sickening sad sound resonated in the back of Kikyo's throat, causing Silva to wince momentarily. She clicked her teeth and turned her head to look back out of the window. "There is no way," she said, voice thick, "that I could stand to see my own son locked away like some animal."

Killua half scoffed and half chuckled, the amazement of his mother's ironic words as amusing to him as a clown stretching balloons. "That's rich, Mother. It's almost as if your own daughter wasn't being caged."

Kikyo snapped her neck towards Killua, anger decorating her brown eyes. "It's not the same thing and you know it, Killua."

"You're right, Mother. It isn't the same thing. Illumi had a choice in the matter; Alluka didn't. You can't expect me to feel any sort of sympathy from him."

"Then why," she whispered, "are you even here?" Tears formed in the back of her throat, and she choked before pressing her fist in her mouth to swallow them down. "Can't you see that we're grieving?"

Killua shook his head, trying his best to remember his main mission for coming back in the first place. _If anything, I didn't come back to argue about whether or not Illumi is some sort of golden child._

"So what does this mean for us? What are you going to do?"

Silva sighed, running his hands through his silver almost white hair. "I wish I had the answers, son. I really do. Illumi refuses to see anyone, so I haven't been able to contact him. They say that he hasn't spoken since Saturday, which is good, the less he says the better. But I just don't know. If anyone finds out that his name is linked to ours, I suppose that it could be nothing but ruin."

 _Saturday?_ Killua thought, _that's the same day that the man -Hisoka- said they talked with him. He probably stopped talking because he's already said too much._  
"Is that," Kikyo replied to Silva, her voice screeching in disbelief, "all that you can think of at a time like this? Your son is rotting away like some… some _criminal_ , and all you can think of is his last name and how it will affect us?"

"He _is_ a criminal, Mother!" As soon as the words crawled off his tongue, they pleasured Killua, the essence of relief in the admittance of what Illumi _truly_ was swallowing him whole. "He killed _six_ people for no damn reason! Even with everything he's done to this family, to strangers, you still take up for him! He's not a child; he's a grown man who is more than capable for being held accountable for his actions! You're only upset that you can't protect him this time!"

Kikyo stood, anger rising out of her like a phoenix. Tears were streaming down her face, and Killua wasn't sure if it was due to his weight of the truth or the comfort of her lie.

"You don't know anything, Killua! He's your brother, for crying out loud!"

"My _brother_ ," he spat out like venom, "is _exactly_ where he belongs."

"Where did you come from? How could something from me turn out to be so _cold_?"

"You have successfully managed to answer your own question within the same sentence, Mother."

"Silva!" She shrieked, her body shaking as she pointed a finger in Killua's face, "Talk some damn sense in your son!"

Silva's eyes rolled slowly over to Killua, taking him in. They were soft and understanding and something snapped within his irises. He nodded and turned towards Kikyo.

"He's right."

Kikyo placed a hand over her chest, gravity forcefully pulling her back onto the couch. Her mouth fell open, circled around Silva's name, although she couldn't breathe out the syllables.

"Illumi," Silva continued, "can't be saved this time. Nor does he need to be. In fact," he stood, walking towards the window and lifting one of the blinds to peek outside, "he should've never been saved in the first place."

"Silva," Kikyo breathed, "have you gone _mad_? Are you that stupid to say something like that about your _own_ son?"

"I _was_ stupid," he said bluntly, "but not anymore. Illumi is the product of your coddling and warped priorities, Kikyo. I swooped down to save him like the hero you needed me to be, and where did that get us? _Everything_ that I worked hard for, that my father worked hard for, is crumbling to ashes. And your _son_ ," he emphasized his word, placing the ownership solely on her, and turned to look Kikyo in the face, "the perfect son that you worship, is the one who lit the flame. So no, I absolutely will _not_ save him this time."

Killua stared in amazement, his father becoming more of a giant in his eyes. This was the Silva that Killua always knew existed, the man that he respected and admired. He had hoped, in the deepest corridors of his heart, that the whipped puppet that Kikyo had created scattered in the wind and spiraled away in a tornado from the Zoldyk home.

"I can't believe you. I can't believe that the man that I _married,_ the man whose children I carried for years upon years has the _nerve_ to tell me that he won't step in to defend his flesh and blood!"

"And what makes you," he said softly, an eyebrow rising in question, "any different than me?"

She had nothing else to say, the rest of her retaliation lodging in her throat and creating a soft choking sound. She stared at him, trying to piece the puzzle of the man she thought she knew. He stared back, wondering if she was _always_ this woman, and was he too caught up on the beauty of her looks to see otherwise.

"Mother, Father," Killua interjected, deciding that now was the time to make his announcement, "I refuse to go along with the plan you set out for me."

They both whipped their faces towards him, Kikyo's eyes rising with astonishment and Silva's lessening to a plea. "Son," Silva whispered, "don't you see now more than ever that you're all this family has left?"

"I don't care, Father. I don't want what this family has to offer. If _this_ is what it means to be a Zoldyk, then please keep it as far away from me as possible. I won't do this."

"You selfish piece of shit," Kikyo whispered, slowly walking towards Killua. He arched his shoulders back, poking his chest out to firmly stand his ground. "With everything going on, with every acidic word that came out of that ungrateful little mouth of yours, you have the _audacity_ to sit here and tell us something like that at a time like _this_?"

"And when would be a perfect time, Mother? At Illumi's trial? His sentencing? How about when they send him to fucking death row for his crimes? Would you rather me say it on the witness stand? Because believe me, _believe me_ , I have so much to say to anyone that is willing to listen. But then, where would that leave you, Mother? Who would you answer to?"

Before she could think, her open palm stung across his cheek with such ferocity that it silenced the room, the only sounds echoing the chambers were the squawks of the birds outside of the window. "You," she spat, her voice tight and hushed, "are not my son."

Killua sat there stunned momentarily before turning his head to his mother, his eyes raging with fire. "Good," he hissed and stormed out of the study.

Kikyo studied her palm, reading the lines and words that were etched into her skin as if it was foreign to her. She had already lost one son, did she just force out another? "Silva," she whispered, "do something."

He stood for a moment, trying to piece what was left of his wife. Memories crashed down of their wedding day, the day she birthed Illumi and cradled him for hours before letting Silva hold him, the day she became obsessed with the eldest and made him her own personal project. He may have had a hand in the conception, but it was Kikyo who had breathed life into the dragon, and she didn't care who got burned by his rampage. "I believe," he said flatly, "that you have done more than enough." And with that, he left her there alone.

* * *

Killua walked in a daze towards the front door, desperate to leave. He couldn't wait until graduation; he needed to set the plans in motion for his and Alluka's escape _now_. And it appeared, that Silva was somewhat on his side.

"Master Killua."

Gotoh walked briskly behind him, his arm concealed under his vest. His face was pained, and it softened to sympathy when he approached Killua closer.

"Please, Gotoh, not now."

"Master Killua," he quickly bowed out of respect, "If I could have just a moment of your time outside," he raised his head to meet Killua's gaze, " _please_."

Killua sighed, leading the way to the gravel and leaned against one of the limos. He touched his reddened cheek where Kikyo's hand had greeted him, wincing at the sting that lingered behind.

"Master Killua, I won't be long, but I have a lot to say, and all I ask is that you listen."

Killua nodded, looking at Gotoh curiously. In all of the years that he had known him, Gotoh was always calm and collected. Now he seemed rushed and unsure, and desperate to convey his message to him.

"Master Killua, I have known you since your parents brought you home from the hospital. As you know, there are five butlers here, each one assigned to directly protect one of you. I know that we haven't _succeeded_ ," he winced, memories painting his mind, "but I hope you trust me when I say that I have _always_ taken my job as your protector very seriously. I think of you as my own son."

"I know Gotoh. But—"

"Please," he raised a palm, "allow me to finish?"

Killua nodded.

"I won't pretend like I haven't failed you before, nor will I make excuses for my shortcomings. I hope you understand the difficult position that I was put in during that time, and I had to do what was best for you, young master. If I could go back, believe me I _would_. Anything to save you from this spiral that I've seen you descend. But I am no genie, and I do not have the power to fix what is already broken. What I can do," he pulled out a piece of paper from his sleeve, tucked tightly into an envelope, "is atone for my sins."

Killua accepted the mail, looking at it inquisitively. "What is this?"

"Last week, Mistress Kikyo came to me with a request. She needed me to find out information regarding a _certain_ visitor that had graced her home. As instructed, I did just that. She was convinced, you see, that this visitor had plagued her son, the heir to the Zoldyk name, with ill will."

Killua stared at the paper as if it held the key to the wonders of the world. "Gon," he breathed.

Gotoh nodded. "I know what's in that envelope, and I ask that you proceed with caution. I will tell you that it is nothing easy to swallow, but if this is even a piece of what I can offer to give you the sincerest of my apologies, then by all means take it."

"You heard," he whispered, "you heard what was said in the study."

Gotoh looked at the ground, hands tightly clasped behind his back. "The mansion is very quiet at this hour, Master Killua. And the walls are thin."

Killua nodded, breathing deeply before opening the envelope. He stopped, wondering if it was right to read the information without hearing it from Gon first. But his interest got the best of him, and his eyes swooped over the print. They enlarged as they read each line, soaking in the news and swallowing it whole. He turned his head to Gotoh, irises swaying in disbelief.

"Gotoh," he said thickly, "is this all true?"

"I'm afraid so, Master Killua," he replied somberly, "but you will have to speak with him to get the rest of the story, as I'm sure there is more than what is on that paper."

Killua read it again, feeling a heavy weight sinking in his stomach and he clutched it to prevent himself from getting sick all over the place. He folded it up and put it in his back pocket. "Thank you Gotoh," he said softly, "Really. Thank you."

"It has been a pleasure, Master Killua." He bowed, hearing the gravel shuffle as Killua walked away, grabbing his skateboard from in front of the gate. "Master Killua?"

Killua ceased his walking but did not turn around.

"I feel," Gotoh said, emotion curling around his words, "that this is goodbye?"

"Not yet," Killua said, resisting the urge to turn and embrace his father figure of sorts, "I still have things I must do. But soon."

Gotoh nodded, breathing deeply with acceptance. "When the time comes," he promised, "I hope that you will accomplish all that you need to. For your sake and for Mistress Alluka's sake."

Killua smiled, impressed that Gotoh -who although never said much in these regards- knew his true intentions.

And possibly the only living soul that resided in the Zoldyk estate, whom he could trust to keep it locked away; a secret to cradle as he slept.

* * *

Gon blew hot breath into the palms of his hands in attempt to warm them.

Because the sun was setting earlier, getting out of school meant that it would be unbearably cold, especially for a warm spirited soul such as Gon.

The students piled out of the building in a frenzied excitement, the talks of hanging out and not studying brewing from their lips. He scanned over their heads, nodding and smiling to those who said their goodbyes, occasionally entertaining the common plea for some sort of small advice to those who used him as a counselor.

It seemed like forever -certainly not the actual fifteen minutes- before he felt hot breath graze his neck and causing him to shiver. He turned his head slightly only to greet electric blue eyes and a hearty grin.

"Killua," he said, turning around further until their breaths mingled in a waltz, "I missed you so much today!" He threw his arms around Killua's neck, hugging tightly and pretending not to notice the low stares and hushed mumbles of ' _are they finally together?'_

Killua pressed his cheek against Gon's neck, opening his eyes slowly and using the hidden solace to frown. He wanted to press Gon tighter to his own body, as if they could merge in to one, as if he could somehow draw Gon's pain into his own stomach and regurgitate it when no one was looking.

Gon tried pulling away, and noticed that Killua wasn't ready for the embrace to end yet. Killua's hands clasped tighter around his mid-section as he placed a small kiss against Gon's neck. Usually, the gesture would cause an erotic reaction out of the bronzed teen, but instead it made him cautious, as if Killua was letting sadness bleed from his lips and spill into Gon's flesh.

"Killua," he said against his eardrum, "are you all right?"

Killua blinked rapidly, as if shaking off one persona to engage in a new one, and finally withdrew from the hug. He smiled brightly, beaming with as much as he could muster. "I'm fine," he said threw a curved line in his face, "I've just really missed you too."

Gon pressed a hand to the back of his neck, crimson spreading across his cheeks. "So how did it go? With your family I mean?"

"About as well as you would think," he sighed deeply, a hand running down the spot where Kikyo had left her mark, "my mother is still bat shit crazy, and my dad…well he seems to _kind of_ be on my side, but who knows."

"So what did they say," Gon asked anxiously, "when you told them about not going back to your old school?"

Killua smirked, allowing the amusement of Gon's hurried expression to outweigh the sympathy that anchored in his chest. "My mother flipped. She slapped me."

"Slapped you!?" Gon's eyes widened as if he had been dealt the blow personally. "I can't believe she'd go that far!"

"'S not so bad," he palmed his cheek again, "it's not the first time, but I'm sure it will be the last."

"Does that mean," Gon tried to swallow down his enthusiasm, "you're finally getting out? You and your sister?"

"Yes. I still need a solid plan, but later is no longer an option. It's imperative that I free us of the situation- and fast."

Gon nodded, looking down at the scattered brown patches of frosted grass. "Where do you think you will go?"

Killua shrugged, sucking a deep breath in. "That's a bridge I'll have to cross at another time. I have enough in my college fund for a place, but I can't use it until after I graduate. I suppose I could early withdraw it, but-"

"No," Gon shook his head fiercely, "don't tap into your college fund. Didn't you say before that you wanted to go to Leorio and Kurapika's school? It isn't cheap, you know. And I might plan on going there too, so you'll really need to make sure your ducks are in a row."

"You are?" Killua couldn't hide the biased smile that emerged on his face. "I thought you were going to that fancy-schmancy University that Wing went to?"

"Well," Gon smiled and grabbed Killua's hand, "I guess some things change."

It was supposed to make Killua smile, make his heart burst with satisfaction that the person he loved was willing to alter his plans to fit Killua snuggly in. Instead he frowned, the words echoed in Killua's mind, vibrating through his head until he felt a small ache. _Things change…_

"Killua?" Gon asked worriedly, lowering his head to meet Killua's bended gaze. "Are you all right?"

_Things change._

"Yeah," a lie slithered from his lips, "I just haven't eaten all day."

_Things changed._

"Do you want to grab something to eat?"

"Like what?"

_Things changed for you._

"How about the café spaghetti!"

_Things changed you. They must have._

"Sounds good."

_Things change._

Gon stood to the side of Killua, who barely noticed due to the drowning in the tide of his thoughts, and beamed. "Let's go! I can fill you in on what you missed today."

_How will things change now? Now that I know?_

* * *

"And I'm not really sure how, but Zushi completely managed to pull it off. You would've thought he tripped on purpose!"

Killua forked his spaghetti around, carelessly moving the meatballs and sauce to one side of the plate. The truth is he wasn't really hungry, but the he welcomed the change of scenery and the elated stories of Yorkshin -minus Killua- from Gon.

"You know," Killua interrupted, placing an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm, "this is the first place that we've ever hung out."

Gon smiled, closing his eyes and radiating sun beams. "You might as well just call it for what it is, Killua. This place was the first date I've ever taken you on."

"No it's not," Killua stammered, "you idiot. We weren't even dating then!"

"Who cares? I paid for it, didn't I? And can you honestly sit here and tell me that you didn't feel anything at the time?"

Killua set back, eyebrows moving in recollection and crossed his arms. "I think I was more surprised back then that I actually had a friend. I wasn't sure what I was feeling."

"Uh huh," Gon slurped down a noodle, spaghetti sauce drizzling down his chin, "sure."

"Well I guess it's my turn now," Killua scoffed, raising his napkin and reaching across the table to rid the stain, but stopped. He took in the teen sitting across from him, perfectly imperfect, face stained with red sauce, a painting without a canvas. Honey eyes looked at him questioningly, and immediately Killua was drawn in. The amber irises sparkled marvelously under the dim lighting of the café, thick black eyelashes fluttered with every blink accentuating the innocent eyes. Killua's face softened to a slight pained expression, for under those big innocent eyes that he loved so much was a broken story that Gon had never told. _Has he ever told anyone?_

His eyes wandered down the golden tanned arms and he wondered how many times Gon's tears had pooled down, leaving traces of secrets in the pores until he soaked them back in his memory. How many times had his fingers covered those eyes, hid that smile until he was nothing more than a ball of misery? How many times, before Killua came along, did Gon look at the sun and saw nothing of the heavenly rays that pulsated against his skin, looked at the promise of the sky and felt betrayed?

How many times, did Gon feel the same way Killua felt all those years ago?

"Killua," Gon said, his eyes sparkling with worry, "there you go again with that look. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just wanted…..I just wanted to look at you, is all."

"But you see me every day."

"Sometimes," Killua said tenderly, "it's as if I'm seeing you for the first time all over again."

Gon blinked in retaliation, unsure of the hidden message that loitered when he ceased speaking. It was if Killua was sad for him; and Gon couldn't figure out why.

There would only be one reason for Killua to be acting this way, but there was no way that he could possibly know…could he?

"I'm sorry," Killua said, sitting back down in his seat and looking down at his barely touched spaghetti. "I'm sorry if I'm acting strange, it's just that today has been pretty heavy."

Gon nodded, turning his head to watch a waitress pour water into another patron's glass. Killua swallowed the lump in his throat, reprimanding himself to act as normally as one could act given the circumstances.

"Well," Gon said, his vision still tunneled at the waitress, "I have something that could get your mind off things for a while."

"Oh?" Killua raised his eyebrow seductively. "I think you just might be right."

"Not _that_ ," Gon chuckled, "you pervert. In art today, Bisky was telling us how she would like to see progress on our final painting for the semester. Given everything that's been going on, we haven't really had time to get to it. But," he said affectionately, smiling in a haze and turning back to Killua, "I know exactly how I want to paint you."

Killua's breath caught in between his lips, his mouth forming over the invisible circle.

"All I have to do," Gon whipped out his cell phone, his fingers typing fast, "is get the permission from Kurapika."

"You need to ask Kurapika how to paint me?"

"No, I need to ask Kurapika to use the art studio. Waiter!" Gon raised his hand, signaling two boxes and a check. "So we'd better get going, because this could take a while."

"You want to paint tonight? Geeze, what kind of serial date are you taking me on?"

"What better time to start? When you're inspired, you're inspired. Besides," Gon took the black book from the waiter and handed it over to Killua with a grin, "it's your turn to pay."

* * *

By the time Kurapika had responded to Gon's text, they were walking in to the main building of the art studio at the university.

Kurapika had the trust of the deans and art teachers to use the studio whenever he felt the itch to pour his soul out to paper, and they never questioned how often he used it, or if he used it at all. With all the recognition he had gotten from his galleries and paintings, they were more than happy to lend it to such a charismatic student.

Gon had sat through Kurapika's creative madness in the vicinity a few times before, but had never used the space personally. What better way, he thought, to christen it than with the maddening genius that was Killua?

The room was spacious and white, dried painting chips littered the floor as if it was an intention piece of art itself. The windows were clouded with off white thin curtains, as if to keep the outside world separate. If someone wanted to lose themselves to the insanity of their fingers, then this was the place to do it.

They sat their items down, plopping to the floor and adding the only sound to the room. Killua screeched over two easels across the white and paint spackled tile, setting them across from one another. Gon set up the blank canvas, instantly frowning at how their bare skin contrasted the accidental color decoration of the room.

"Well," Gon pulled out his pack of oils and sat on the stool, tongue wiggling its way out in preparation, "let's get started."

The colliding of paint to canvas stifled the personal conversation as they concentrated on perfecting their piece. Killua would stop every so often, glancing over at Gon, pulling out a sketch pencil and adding to already intricate piece. He smiled as he noticed Gon's trademarked look of concentration, studying the way his skin moved as his fingers tightened over the brush. Gon did not look away, as if Killua was a permanent stamp in his mind, ready for viewing at his own disposal. Killua looked at his own beginning of his piece, a clear and concise sketch of _exactly_ how he saw Gon, and how he would always see him, even when father moon recollected his child and called him home.

His fingers itched in anticipation, wishing that he could spill the piece the way he envisioned it in his mind onto the canvas in its entirety. How was he supposed to finish something so monumental, when his own personal story had only just begun?

He glanced over at Gon again, noticing the white streak that stained his nose, and the blue that colored his face like ocean water. Gon was finally as Killua had always pictured him: a literal work of art.

"But," he said out loud, "you're not finished yet."

"Hmm?" Gon said through his stuck out tongue, "What did you say Killua?"

Killua's silence answered him, his stool squeaking against the floor as he rose, making his way over to Gon. Gon's gaze never left the portrait, even when Killua was breathing against his shoulder. He forced the brush out of Gon's hand, setting it gently on the easel. Gon looked at him dumbfounded, but straightened his face when he saw the determined look in Killua's eyes.

"So," Killua cradled his cheeks, "let me help you."

"Killua?"

The name had barely left his lips when Killua's mouth stole his, savoring everything that Gon still had to say. With one of his hands, he removed Gon's shirt, momentarily breaking the kiss before hungrily devouring his mouth again.

He smoothly forced Gon out of his stool, using one arm to guide him to the ground. Their mouths never parted, and by now Killua was using his own tongue to create his own personal piece inside the walls of Gon's cheeks. He unbuttoned his pants, slowly moving them down his legs as his fingers ran over the warmth of his skin.

"Killua," Gon said through the kiss, "you want to do this _here_? What about the paintings?"

"Sssh," he replied, raising his body at a level to look down on him, "just let me study you, Freecs."

Killua's eyes roamed over Gon's perfection. The way his chest rose and fell in his short bursts of breath, the dip in his stomach every time he wiggled against the cool air of the room. The way his eyelids were drooped, all of it was _enticing_ to him.

"Be my work of art," he whispered.

He reached behind him, grabbing the paint from the floor and dipped a different finger in each color. He meticulously ran his fingers down his chest, creating a kaleidoscope of colors across his skin.

"Perfect," he admired, "you're so fucking perfect."

He captured Gon's lips with his own again, his fingers still creating their own masterpiece. He planned on using every color readily available to them to capture his true image of Gon, until they both drank the paint dry. Killua's chest gave way, marrying the colors and creating another piece between them. Gon moaned, dipping his own fingers in paint and rainbowing across Killua's back.

It went on like that for some time, mouths exploring and paint replacing skin. They were creating their own paint chips on the floor, dirtying the white tile with the mark of their passion. Gon felt inclined to try something new, forcing Killua on his back and moving his mouth past the dips above his thighs.

Killua sucked in a tight breath of air as the heat of Gon's mouth circled his erection, restraining his early release even though the softness of his wet tongue was causing him to lose his restriction by the minute. Gon had no apparent rhythm; rather exploring the taste of Killua and enjoying the reaction his journey gave.

Killua let his mouth linger until he was on the brink of insanity; the familiar heat moving around in his belly and making its way downward. He pinned Gon down, wanting to take an odyssey of his own, his mouth mimicking the same actions Gon's did.

It wasn't long before Gon was begging for the warmth of Killua, turning over on his stomach and spreading his legs apart. At this angle, Killua could see the colorful mess they made, and he licked Gon's back on the only places that weren't soiled. He wrote his name with his finger against the paint, as if it were a tattoo that he could look at every time they made love. As if he needed a visual reminder that Gon was indeed his.

He entered Gon with such anticipation that he almost came; instead slowing down his rhythm to make sure that Gon could feel every ounce of what he wanted to say. Every stroke translated to an _I love you_ or _I need you_ , every caress was an unspoken message of commitment and his right to claim. Gon apparently heard it; his back arching in response and lips forming around the syllables of Killua's name.

They came together, both lost in each other, both shaking in the beauty behind the madness.

When it was over, Killua hopped up, going to get a clean towel for he and Gon. He bumped the stool his pants were sitting on, causing them to fall to the ground.

"Careful," Gon said, voice still caught on the high of an orgasm, "you don't want these to get dirty."

He reached over to pick them up carefully so as to not get paint on them. A piece of paper flew out slowly, a white paper bird that instinctively landed at Gon's palm. He picked it up, the paper unfolding as he carefully tried not to get it soiled with paint.

"Killua…."

Killua snapped on cue, the pain in Gon's voice being one that he had never heard before. He soaked in the image: Gon's hand across his open mouth, his eyes watery with realization, and the paper he wasn't supposed to see.

"Where," his voice was thick," where did you get this?"

Killua reached out his hand, as if he could touch the scene and make it go away, or recreate it into something more beautiful. He had the power only moments before, and he was begging for it to come back.

"Gon—"

"You knew?" He said tearfully, refusing to meet Killua's gaze. "You knew this whole time?"

"It's not like that…."

Gon put his head in his lap, tears racing down his cheeks. Killua's heart snapped in two, a choking sound forming in the back of his throat. He walked over to Gon, kneeling down and pulling him into a hug. Gon didn't resist, but he made no move to reciprocate.

"I just found out today, Gon, I swear." He swallowed the tears that threatened to cascade out of his eyes, tilting his head back and blinking them away, "please, just talk to me."

"What am I supposed to say?" Gon said through broken words, "I wasn't ready, Killua, I wasn't ready."

Killua sighed, remembering the conversation he and Gon had.

_Do you think, there will ever be a day when we can have those kinds of conversations?_

_One day, Gon, we will expose our demons to each other. But some demons are so evil that they should never see the light of day._

But Killua knew, finally knew and accepted, that the sun had finally risen on the day.

"It's time, Gon," he said, one finger lifting Gon's chin to look him in the eyes, "for us to have a talk."

_We have to make sure that we are strong enough on our own, and together before we make that leap…._

"And this time, we have to tell the entire truth."

_… I don't want to destroy myself from the fall._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS!
> 
> SORRY FOR THE DELAY. LAST WEEK I WAS AT ANIME CENTRAL ALL WEEKEND IN CHICAGO, AND IT WAS LOADS OF FUN! (AND ALSO TOOK MY ENTIRE FOCUS) IF ANY OF YOU LOVELY READERS WERE THERE, I WAS DRESSED AS OUR BEST UNCLE HISOKA, AND BULMA FROM DBZ (I DIDN'T REALLY NEED TO SAY WHERE SHES FROM, DID I? LOL)
> 
> ANYWHOO, YAY FOR CHAPTER TEN BEING DONE! WHICH MEANS WE'RE ALMOST TO THE END OF THE STORY! (KIND OF SAD TBH) AND ALL OF THE QUESTIONS THAT I'M SURE YOU GUYS HAVE, WILL BE ANSWERED NEXT CHAPTER.
> 
> I HAD A DEADLINE THAT I REALLY WANTED TO MEET, SO I HOPE THIS CHAPTER DOESN'T SEEM TO RUSHED, IM REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WRITING THE NEXT CHAPTER! (HINT: IT'S A FLASHBACK)
> 
> NOW FOR SOME FUN FACTS:
> 
> THE LINE NOTHING BUT THE FACTS MAM IS A REAL MOTTO OF JOURNALISM. EVERY JOURNALISM CLASS I HAVE EVER TAKEN ALL SAY THE SAME THING, TO MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T PUTTING YOUR OPINION OR UNFACTUAL INFORMATION, WHICH TURNS IT INTO THE TABLOID
> 
> THE LINE 'UNTIL WE DRINK THE PAINT DRY' IS FROM THE OPENING OF TOKYO GHOUL SEASON 2. I LOVE THAT ANIME, AND I DEFINITELY RECOMMEND IT, EVEN THOUGH ITS SO SHORT
> 
> THERES QUITE A FEW FLASHBACKS FROM PREVIOUS CHAPTERS WRITTEN IN HERE ;)
> 
> OKAY ENOUGH CHIT CHATTER, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART FOR THE AMAZING REVIEWS, FOLLOWS, KUDOS, FAVORITES AND ALL THAT JAZZ. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! I SAW A POST ON TUMBLR ON HOW FIC WRITERS DON'T CARE ABOUT CREATING STORIES TO NOT GET PAID, WE CARE BECAUSE WE'RE SHARING OUR LOVE FOR WRITING AND TELLING STORIES WITH OTHERS, AND THE ONLY "PAYMENT" WE SEEK ARE REVIEWS! SO TRUE! (BTW IF YOU GUYS HAVE A TUMBLR, FEEL FREE TO FOLLOW ME AT BITCHII-USA. I LOVE TO TALK WITH PEOPLE ON THERE!) IM HOPING TO POSSIBLY HIT 100 KUDOS (FINGERS CROSSED!)
> 
> UNTIL NEXT TIME, FRIENDS,
> 
> BITCHII-USA


	11. Eleven: And Then, Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****Warning: Child Abuse, Suicide, Sadness :(
> 
> Note: The ages of the members of the family have been changed from canon to fit the story, and are as follows in this flashback: Illumi- 16, Milluki, 14, Killua- 10, Alluka- 6, Kalluto-5
> 
> this is a flashback chapter

  


_**Eleven** _

_**And Then, Truth** _

_~Eight Years Prior~_

It was days like this that Alluka cherished the most.

Lying on her back, the cool dampness of the fresh summer grass prickling against her legs, she couldn't help but stretch out in complete relaxation. She smiled, turning over to look at Killua whose hands were locked together behind his head. His eyes were closed, a peaceful grin painted on his face.

"Big brother," she sang, her sweet voice causing Killua to smile wider, "you're not asleep are you?"

He shook his head, laughing. He turned so that their eyes met, her big blue orbs all but drowning him in. "Nope, I'm just cloud watching."

"With your eyes closed?" She pouted, her small face distorted into a frown, "Don't lie, Big Brother. Mother says it's impolite to lie."  
"Okay, okay," he laughed, impressed with Alluka's mocking of their mother so early on, "I'm sorry. I'm a little sleepy."

Alluka sprang up, standing over Killua with her arm stretched, her face impatient and demanding. "Get up, Big Brother! I want to play in the garden, not take a nap!"

"Fine," he mumbled, jumping to both feet with ease and dusting the dirt off of his shorts, "Let's go, Alluka."

She smiled a radiant beam that was picturesque with the June day, the one that could sucker Killua out of anything she wanted. Even at six, Killua fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, and he made no remarks or complaints about the position.

The warm sun on his back dissipated, causing him to turn around in irritation. Illumi hovered over him, an unreachable Goliath, the black pearls in his eyes large enough to form an eclipse.

"Kil, Alluka," he said, his tone husky, finally accompanying his stature of puberty, "you two are up pretty early for a Saturday."

"Alluka insisted," Killua replied, yawning at the reminder that the day had greeted them only hours before, "she wanted to play in the garden."

"I see," Illumi pressed a finger to his chin, his eyes darting over to Alluka. "Have you forgotten, dear sister? About our plans today?"

Alluka frowned, her bottom lip poking out in retaliation, her cheeks ballooning with words of a plea. "Please, Illumi, can't I spend the day with Killua?"

Illumi bent over, the whiteness in his eyes swallowed by his black pits, and pat the top of her head. She winced underneath his palm, as if he were planning to squash her like a pesky insect. "Now Alluka, you know that Saturdays are supposed to be spent with your dear brother, Illumi. Killua can wait," he turned over to Killua, his eyes holding no room for a negotiation, "can't you Kil?"

Killua nodded slowly, the invisible strings that wrapped neck were pulling without his consent, a reminder that the younger siblings were merely ventriloquist dolls for Illumi's entertainment. He reached over with his free hand and ruffled his hair, the friction causing tiny surges of electricity to ripple over his scalp. "Atttaboy," Illumi said through a grin, "perhaps I'll give you some candy for being so cooperative. After our lessons, of course, Alluka." He stood, turning around towards the house and gesturing for Alluka to follow. "Come, come, little sister," he grinned, "we have much to go over today."

Alluka smiled apologetically at Killua, her eyes betraying the sentiment etched in the corners of her mouth. They watered with a begging, pulling Killua into something that he was unaware of. She trotted behind Illumi, her tiny legs struggling to keep up with his lanky ones, and turned around to face Killua again.

There were two things that Killua became sure of in that brisk, fleeting moment. Two things that would always pester in the back of his mind like an unwanted whisper, screeching against his temple like an attached demon.

One: Alluka's eyes, no matter the distance, were wet with tears, ones that she tried –and failed—to swallow down as she sniffed through a reddened nose. Killua knew, even then, that her oversized irises were pleading for him to reach out and grab her, stop her from going to wherever she was headed. His feet, he discovered, were bricks, and his small and fragile frame could not move their weight, even if he forced himself to.

Two: No matter how many times Alluka tried to pull down her dress, which Killua counted as nine since they made their decline towards the estate, she could not cover the blue and purple mark that stained the back of her pale thigh, criss-crossing across the skin like angry ink.

* * *

"You're leaving again? You just got back last night!"

Mito hushed her voice to a tone that only they could hear, so as not to upset the sleeping ten year old. She looked hysterically at the older man across the table, his stubble on his face and bags under his eyes a clear indication that he had been up for nights on end. He sighed, taking another sip of his tea and wiggling his nose.

"You know I have to, Mito."

"You don't have to," she scoffed, "you're _choosing_ to. There's a big difference between the two."

"Not when it involves my son," he stared at her, determination reeling in the whites of his eyes, "and not when it involves a chance at a real family."

"Oh cut the bullshit, Ging," Mito pressed her flat palms against the table, the sides of her hands turning red from the force, "you're doing this mainly for you. If Gon were a factor in your decisions, then you wouldn't rush off to leave him alone, _again_."

He pushed his cap further down his head, his thick tendrils of hair wildly pooling through the sides. "You wouldn't understand," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "you never have."

"Then _explain_ it to me, Ging," she said, her voice becoming uneasy with emotion, "explain to me how you feel comfortable leaving your son behind while you chase something that never belonged to you in the first place!"

"She _did_ belong to me," he pointed a finger with his chest, the brims of his eyes becoming watery, "she belonged to me and she belonged to _him_. I have to get her back, for the sake of myself and for the sake of _Gon_."

"Stop bringing him into this as if you're doing him some sort of service! Gon has never questioned anything about her, he has never _asked_ to see something as small as a picture. Do you want to know what Gon needs? What he _really_ wants?" She pressed her hands together and pointed them at Ging. " _You_. He needs his father and he _wants_ you here. You're so busy running behind a ghost that you don't realize the little boy who cries while he looks out of the window. Do you know what he asked me last time?"

Ging took a deep breath and finished off his tea. "I'm sure you're going to tell me anyways, so go ahead."

"He asked me," she replied, clutching her chest, "why doesn't his father love him enough to stay around. He _adores_ you, Ging. He watches the movies you used to watch, plays the games that you said you loved, he even pretends that he's you by dressing in your clothes. You're his _idol;_ isn't that enough for you?"

"I can give my son many things, but," he sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, "I can't give him a mother's love."

Mito formed her lips around the words, but couldn't bring herself to say them. Every time Ging returned from his escapades and took Gon back, she was left with the lingering smell of bath soaps and the phantom squeaks of rubber ducks from her tub. She wallowed in the misery of once again being alone in her home, the stilled laughter of Gon etched into the walls, breathing to life every time she passed a room. The sentence was lodged in her throat, caught in a bubble, but she couldn't stop it from crossing her mind.

_He already has a mother's love. He has_ _ **me**_.

"Why are you so loud, Aunt Mito?" Gon emerged in the front door of the kitchen, clutching the blanket that Mito sewed for his birthday and rubbing the sleep crust out of his eye. Mito turned and smiled warmly, trying to diffuse the lingering tension in the air.

His eyes focused from his dreamy haze and made contact with Ging. Instantly, they opened as he dropped his blanket and ran towards him. Mito looked at the blanket, lying against the cold tile of the kitchen, and fought back the tears that threaten to escape.

_A metaphor, it seems. Every time Ging comes back, Gon forgets about me._

"Dad!" Gon leaped excitingly into his arms, cradling his chin in the crevices of Ging's neck. He inhaled the musky cologne that was dabbed against his skin and instantly felt the effects of home.

"Good to see you too, Gon." Ging pressed his nose in his hair, embracing the warmth of his doppelgänger.

"I missed you, dad. Why were you gone so long this time?" Gon pressed back and sat in Ging's lap, pouting as fluffy tears made their way into the corners of his eyes. "I thought you forgot about me again!"

Ging ruffled his fingers through Gon's unkempt hair and gave him a cheeky smile. "Hey, now, don't you go doing that. You know your old man wouldn't leave you behind. I just had some loose ends to tie up, you understand, right?"

Gon nodded, wiping away the tears and snot against the sleeve of his pajama top. Mito sighed, getting up to get him a Kleenex.

"Are we going home now, dad? I have a lot of cool things to talk with you about!"

Mito leaned over the two, handing the tissue to Gon. Her eyes pressed against Ging's stare, forcing him to respond truthfully. "Yes, Ging, when are you going home?"

Ging narrowed his eyes at her, scowling deeply in his chest. "Could I have a moment," he forced out stalely, "with my son? _Alone?"_

The words cut inside of Mito's heart, a deep wound that Ging kept opening and closing at his own disposal. She cleared her throat and stood straight, reaching down to rub Gon's head.

"Gon," she said tenderly, causing the boy to look at her with the big honeycomb eyes that she loved dearly, "you're getting to be such a big boy now." She tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, leaving the room before her tears drowned them all.

Ging watched her exit, a small riffle of guilt coursing in his bones. He looked down at his son, who confusingly watched the space Mito had recently occupied.

"Gon," he said huskily, his voice demanding Gon's undivided attention, "I have to go away for a few days again."

The disappointment anchored Gon's head down, his expression altering to a dismal one. "Oh," he said biting his trembling lip, "I understand."

"Do you?" Ging hugged him closer as if he could stifle his son's sadness with his maddening weight of affection. "Do you understand that everything I do is to help us out? The _both_ of us?"

"Yeah," he sighed, wrapping his arms around Ging's midsection and resting his head against his chest. He began to kick his legs absentmindedly, a trait he inherited from his father.

"Good," Ging whispered, "because I'm _so_ close Gon. I can feel it, I swear to you I can. I never want you to think that I don't love you, or that I don't care son, but I also need you to know that I _have_ to do this. One day you will thank me."

"Mmm hmmm," Gon nodded against his chest, but the pain of the announcement did not evaporate. _I don't care about one day, dad. I only care about you staying now._

"When you come back," Gon mumbled against Ging's clothes, "can I stay with you?"

Ging chuckled, the vibrato in his chest causing Gon to fumble. "Of course you can kiddo. What kind of question is that?"

"The kind," Gon said somberly, "that I want to make sure you keep your word on." He extended his pinky upwards, wiggling it with determination. Ging laughed heartedly, remembering the times when he and a younger Mito practiced the same mannerisms. He intertwined his pinky with Gon's, the stark contrast of their thickness becoming relevant. "I promise," Ging started off in chant.

"That my dad will keep his word and come back for me," Gon sang, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"If I break my promise," Ging sang in bravado, forcing a chuckle from the boy, "then I'll—"  
"You'll—"

"Have to swallow a thousand needles," the chimed in unison.

"Sealed with a kiss!" Gon enthusiastically pressed his thumb to his dad's, wiggling it against the stump.

"Okay okay," Ging laughed, "so now you have indefinite proof that I mean what I say. Fair deal?"

"Mmm!" Gon nodded, returning his head against his chest. "And don't forget dad."

"Don't forget what?"

"You can never break a pinky promise."

* * *

"And this one's name is Fred," Alluka twirled the pink coated marble in between her fingers, bringing it close to her eye and peeking through.

Killua turned his nose upward, his eyebrow rising in confusion. "Fred? Why that name? That's a boy's name, Alluka."

"I dunno," she shrugged her shoulders, bringing the marble back to the collection that circled her knees, "I just like the name. I name all of my marbles."

Killua scanned over the multi colored spheres that adorned the carpet, a stockpile that Alluka had been keeping treasured for months now. He knew that Tsubane, the butler entrusted to watch over Alluka, would bring them to her for presents. She had to have about twenty by now, and she had spent the past fifteen minutes going over each one and what it meant to her.

"They're very shiny," Killua admired, picking one up to examine it. It was a blue and green stone, a small resemblance of Earth. Killua felt powerful with it in his hand, as if he were a god who could control the way the planet breathed and the lives that inhabited it. "This is a pretty cool collection, Alluka."

Alluka studied the way that Killua appreciated the sphere, noting how the kaleidoscope of colors brought out the blue rims of his irises. "Big brother," she announced, leaning over and cupping her hands over his, "I want you to have this one."

Killua's eyes sparkled with glee, his mouth opening to an uneven grin. "Really? I like this one a lot!"

"I know!" she exclaimed proudly, "And that's why I want you to have it. Its name is Alluka's Heart, that's what Tsubane told me to call it. All of my marbles are important to me, just like Big Brother!"

"Alluka…" Killua looked down at their closed hands, the way Alluka's tiny fist enclosed over his. She was growing, and it wouldn't be long before she was in a real elementary school and he would have to protect her from bullies. It was a job that he did not intend to fail, the older of the last three children. Kalluto still nuzzled up to Kikyo's embrace, but Alluka was his own personal protection. "Thank you."

"Mmhmm," she beamed, "but make sure you take care of it. It's magical, that's what Tsubane told me. If you treat it nicely, it has the power to grant any wish that you want."

"Any wish? That's what she told you?"

"Yes! She said that these are _special_ marbles, and they have to be treated as such. I trust you, Big Brother, so don't let me down!"

Killua smiled marvelously, studying the light that emancipated from her face, the way her nose crinkled up as she told her secret. He painted the image in his mind so that he would always have it to look back on, just in case he ever forgot.

The shadows that embraced them suddenly pierced through with the golden light of the room as Kikyo's face crept through.

"Alluka, Killua!" she said through tight lips, "Get from underneath there this instant! This is a dinner party, not play time!"

"Yes Mother," they sulked, scooping up Alluka's marbles and placing them into her pocket. They wrestled their way between the thick table cloths, greeting the eyes of the guest that questioned them. Kikyo hurriedly smoothed out Alluka's dress and refastened the buttons on Killua's shirt, shooing them to their placements at the table. An older man with a kind face smiled down at Alluka as she took the seat next to him, pouring water into her glass. "Nice of you to join us, young lady."

"My name is Alluka!" she said with a toothy smile, holding up six fingers, "I'm six years old!"

"Well, now, what a pretty name," he placed a hand on the top of her head, lightly smoothing out the frizzed hair that matted at the top, "Six years, you say? I don't think an old man such as myself can remember back that far. I'm 72."

"You _are_ very old," Alluka said through her wondrous eyes, forcing a snicker from Killua, "I bet you grew up with no television or anything."

"Please," Kikyo said through a reddened face, motioning slyly for Alluka to mind her manners, "excuse my daughter and son." She shot her eyes in the direction of Killua, reprimanding him through her sharp gaze. "They can be a _handful_ sometimes."

"Oh, no need for that," he said, raising his palm in the air and chuckling, "They're just children. My grandchildren are the same; luckily I have the patience of a stone giant."

Kikyo cleared her throat and poured herself a full glass of wine, prompting a raised eyebrow from Silva. She shook her head and took a long sip.

"We appreciate your understanding, Netero," Silva passed the wine in his direction, "and we also appreciate you coming this evening to discuss business. Your organization is just what the council needs."

"Well, I do believe that it would be best for us in the long term, considering how much revenue you've brought in. Don't get me wrong, I'm still not one hundred percent sure that Kukuroo will be my home I retire to, but if you keep treating me to fancy dinners and delightful tikes, I don't know how I could say no."

Silva chuckled heartedly, biting into his steak. "Well, if you sign on with us, I can absolutely guarantee that you can have this wonderful dinner soiree whenever you desire. You know my son, Illumi," Silva nodded in Illumi's direction, serving the bait that he wanted Netero to gobble up, "will be turning eighteen at the end of next year. We plan on having him on board of the financial department on the council. He's a wizard with numbers."

"Oh?" Netero smiled courteously at Illumi, "well that sounds very promising. Your father has shown me your recent test scores, very impressive young man."

"Thank you," Illumi responded, his tone void of any real emotion, "I work very hard. I plan on being a vital component in our family."

"Well," Netero laughed, taking a sip of wine, "you sure have him trained well, Silva." He looked down at Alluka who was struggling to cut into her steak. He leaned over with his knife to help her out, red juice pooling around her vegetables. "And what about you, little one? Do you also plan on joining the family affair when you grow up?"

Alluka nodded, stuffing her face with the tender meat. "Mother and Father are always training us to be good speakers. They say that it's important."

"And they're right," he responded with a smile, "nothing is better than a beautiful lady who speaks eloquently. Perhaps you'll take after your mother."

"Oh, Netero," Kikyo blushed, polishing off her wine, "you are absolutely ludicrous."

"I don't want to be like Mother, I want to be like Big Brother!" Alluka gushed, waving her hands in the air.

"I can see why," Netero exclaimed, "Illumi is very smart."

"No not _him_ ," she frowned, reaching across the table, "like my big brother Killua!"

"I see," Netero smiled at Killua, "you two seem very close."

"We do everything together, Mr. Netero," Alluka grinned, "we play all of the time!"

"Really?" Netero cut into his own steak, sopping it up into the juices that lie underneath the browned meat, "what kind of games do you play? My grandchildren love hide and seek."

"My favorite game," she said looking over to Killua for permission, "is called Three Favors. Would you like to play?"

"Honey," Silva interrupted, "I don't think Netero is here to play games."

"It's quite alright," Netero turned in his chair to an anticipating Alluka, "how do you play?"

"I command you to do something, and if you can't then I command another one. If you do it, then you get to command me to do something. The first person to get three failures loses."

"That's quite a contest," Netero chuckled, "but I'm willing to play. You go first."

"Okay!" Alluka pressed a finger to her lips and thought, closing her eyes in the process. She opened them in delight and held her palm forward. "Give me your cake, Mr. Netero."

Netero reached over his plate and laughed. "Such an easy request, I should watch my sugar intake anyways. Well, that's one for you, so it's my turn. I would like a high five!"

Alluka obliged, smacking her tiny palm against his. "Done! Now let's see what's next." She closed her eyes again, her tongue wiggling out of its cave in concentration. Her eyes popped open again, her blue irises determined. "Pick me up, Mr. Netero!"

"Oh, that one I will have to pass," he laughed, pointing to his lower back, "I threw out these tired muscles last week, and I'm afraid I'm still recuperating. Perhaps if you were younger, I still might be able to."

"That's one strike against you then! Now, give me a million dollars, Mr. Netero."

Netero through his head back in uproar, his stomach vibrating with his laughter. "My, my you are a feisty one! A Zoldyk through and through. Perhaps you can make that one day when you get to be my age!"

"So is it a no?"

"I'm afraid so, little one."

"That's okay! That's two strikes against you! For the last request, I would like to have your car, Mr. Netero!"

Netero raised his hands in the air in defeat, his face in an unbreakable smile. "Well, I believe that makes three, little one. You are the winner." He opened his eyes to look down at Alluka, expecting to see the cute little grin that he had quickly grown accustomed to.

Her face, he discovered, had contorted into a stale grin, her eyes appearing to have dilated, an eclipse of black on blue. "Did you know, Mr. Netero," she said, her voice softer and her tone lower, "that you will die soon?"

Netero placed his hand back, looking over at the shocked faces of Silva and Kikyo. "What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed.

"Alluka!" Kikyo all but spit out her water, her body fuming with anger, "where do you get off thinking you can speak to our guest this way?"

"It's her dumb little game, Mother," Illumi's pits were open gazed in Alluka's direction as he fidgeted his fingers in a fist to keep himself calm, "she does this from time to time."

"I swear to you, Netero," Silva cleared his throat, "we had no idea she did such a thing. Alluka you will apologize this instant."

"Alluka isn't here," she sang in a mumble, "and I get to pick my favor, not the other way around." She looked over in her brother's direction. "Tell them how the game works, Killua."

Killua drank his water, seemingly unfazed by the change in dynamics. "She won't stop until her favor is granted. What do you want, Nanika?"

"Nanika!?" Kikyo clutched her chest, "Who in the world is Nanika?"

"That's what she likes to be called," Killua replied, " I dunno why, it's just part of the game, I think."

"I want," Nanika turned back to Netero, reaching her arms upwards, "your _eyes_. They look like marbles! Give them to me, Mr. Netero! You're going to die anyways!"

Netero looked down in disbelief at her, shaking his head and trying to contain his temper. "What an _evil_ request, little girl. Where are your manners?"

" _Give_ them to me, Mr. Netero!" she demanded, pressing her body against his legs, "I _want_ them! Give them to me and then you can _die!_ "

Netero threw his napkin on the table, standing up and fuming over at Silva and Kikyo. "I don't know what kind of charade this is, but I do _not_ wish to conduct business with a family of _heathens_." He pointed a finger in Alluka's- Nanika's- direction, his fist shaking. "If I were you, I would get _that_ fixed! It's absolute blasphemy!"

"Please!" Silva partially stood, smoothing out his shirt, "I'm not sure what's going on here, but if you'd allow me to-"

"I will do _no_ such thing, Mr. Zoldyk. Clearly, your family is _deranged_. Your father was a friend of mine indeed, rest his soul, and that is the only reason you do not have a definitive no at the moment. But if _that_ is here again, I will make sure that no one invests their money into this shrewd mountain!" He gulped down his wine and stormed out, a trail of angry words marking his footprints in the carpet.

"Alluka!" Kikyo slammed her fist against the table, the glasses clattering from her move, "what the hell do you think you are doing!?"

Her question was met with silence, her eyes pressing towards the small body that fell asleep in the chair. Kikyo pulled her hair out of its perfect circular bun, her anger darkening the room like a thunder cloud.

"Don't worry, Mother," Illumi said, rising from his seat. "I'll see that she gets to her bed safe and sound."

Something in Illumi's words caused the pit of Killua's stomach to fall, the insides rolling around and crashing into each other. And as he watched his brother cradle his sister against his chest, the urge to reach out and pull her back tugged against him like a gnawing wolf.

Instead he watched them leave the room, and Killua couldn't help but notice that the scene was a depiction of a lion carrying a lamb as its prey.

* * *

Gon stretched his toes against the hot gravel that littered his front yard, his legs nuzzling the green grass that drew the imaginary line.

Today was the day, he recalled, the day that Ging was coming back. _Five days_ , was what he told him, and today marked the fifth day.  
Before the goddess sun could properly greet the day, Gon had already polished off his bowl of cereal, bathed himself, and beat Mito to the morning dishes.

And the agonizing wait of Ging's return loomed over him, the anticipation rolling in his belly like a hurricane.

Gon thought about all of the things he would get to do with his father now that they would be permanently living together. All of the fishing expeditions, all of the dinners they would try- and most likely fail- to cook, the books Ging would read to him, the stories he would tell, all of these reachable, soon to be made memories lit the firework of excitement in Gon's chest.

_The best part will be all of the tomorrows that we'll forever have, dad._

Gon heard the gravel turn in its familiarity of someone approaching. He listened for the sound of brakes squealing to a stop before sitting upright, his mouth opening to a wide grin. He jumped effortlessly to his feet, racing toward the brown car before the driver got out.

"Aunt Mito! Aunt Mito!" Gon screamed towards the house, "Dad's finally here!"

Gon strutted to the driver's door as Mito came out drying off a pot. The corners of her mouth turned downwards into a frown, a deep weight sinking in her chest. She wanted nothing more than for Gon to be able to spend every amount of the rest of his life under Ging's care, but she also knew what kind of person Ging _was_ , and also what kind of empty promises that he made.

Ging thrust open the door, carefully trying to not knock his son over, and scooped Gon into his arms. Gon slung his arms around Ging's thick neck, locking his fingers in an embrace that refused to give.

"Hey kiddo," Ging said, "Did you miss me?"

"More than you'll ever know dad! And you kept your promise!"

"Oh I did _more_ than that, son." Ging stared at Mito's somberly presence, haunting the door frame. He waved to her as the wind brushed her hair in front of her eyes, allowing it to hide the tears that appeared in her corners. She lifted an arm back, wiping her face in the process, before heading over towards the duo.

"Glad you made it back safe and sound, Ging," she said, pulling him into an embrace, "Gon's been waiting around for you all morning."

"Oh yeah?" Ging pulled back and ruffled Gon's hair, setting his feet firmly on the ground. "A pinky promise is a promise, son. And you know us Freecs don't play around with that."

"Mmmhmm!" Gon's irises were replaced by stars that only shined for his monumental father, a place that not even Mito herself dared to come close to. Seeing his dad here and knowing that he would never leave him behind again caused a train wreck of emotions that collided into a tangle as tears cascaded down his cheeks.

"Hey now," Ging bent down and wiped the fresh rivers that were now streaming on his white shirt, "what's the waterworks for?"

"Sorry, dad, Aunt Mito," Gon said sniffling, wiping his face with the back of his hand, "I'm just really happy now. I get to live with you again, right?"

"Of course you do, son," Ging pulled him into a hug, looking up at Mito who was trying to swallow down her own sentiment, "and it won't be just you and I either."

Gon pulled back, sniffling his last bit of cries and rubbing his eyes. "What do you mean, dad?"

"Yes," Mito said, her eyebrow rose in confusion, "what do you mean?"

Ging stood straight, clearing his throat and fixing his cap. "I found her, Mito."

Mito's words caught in the ladder of her throat, causing her to clear it so that she could form a tangible sentence. "You found _who_?"

"Come on, don't act like that," Ging crossed his arms and rubbed his stubbled chin, flashing her a toothy smile, "I found Reina."

Mito's eyes widened in shock, her hand barricading her cave of a mouth. "You _found_ her? Where, _how?_ I mean… I thought she didn't want to be found… what does this all mean?"

"Who's Reina?" Gon looked back and forth between Ging and Mito, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, to answer both of your questions," Ging scooped Gon up again, a prideful smile stealing his face, "It means that we'll finally have the family that I deserve, that _Gon_ deserves. And Reina, Gon," he pressed his forehead against Gon's, "is the love of my life. But more importantly, she's your mother."

"My mother?" The words were foreign on his tongue, a taste that he had yet to acquire. Gon knew his father, he knew Mito, and those were the only parental figures that he needed. Anyone else were extras in his play.

"Yes, son, she's your mother. A long time ago, before you were even thought of, we were madly in love. And after years of sharing that love, we found out we were expecting you. But sometimes, Gon," he sat him back down, evening to his eye level, "some people get afraid of responsibilities and run away. And it doesn't mean they don't care or that they're bad people, sometimes they just need a little time to think things over. And that's exactly what I've given your mother: _time_."

" _Ten year's_ worth of time, " Mito replied bitterly, her hands clutching into fists, "ten years without a phone call, a letter, _nothing._ Why would you want someone back who left Ging? She left her son like he was an unwanted item at a grocery store, one that you _and_ I have raised for ten years!"

"Because," Ging replied somberly, " I still love her."

"Love? _Love!?_ " Mito ran her hands down her face in irritation, groaning at Ging's stupidity. "How can you love someone who doesn't even love her own son!?" She realized the harshness of her words before looking down at Gon, his lip trembling. She gasped and covered her mouth, bending down and pulling him into a tight embrace. This time, she did not stop the ocean as it pooled out of her eyes. "Oh no, I didn't mean that, Gon. I'm so sorry, you're plenty loved, do you hear me?"

She felt him nod under her embrace, but his limp body told her that she had the magic words to break the boy.

"She was afraid, Gon, just like you and I get afraid. Maybe she's ready now, but if she's not, I want you to always remember that you are _loved_ , okay? I love you more than the air I breathe, and don't ever forget it."

"Okay, Aunt Mito," Gon whispered against her hair, "it's okay."

Ging cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. Mito released the hug, squeezing one last time for good measure, and stood. "I understand your reservations, Mito, I really do, but you've gotta trust me here, okay? I don't think she's the same person."

"You don't _think_?" Mito sighed, "please don't tell me—"

"I didn't want to scare her off, Mito."

"Well what do you think will happen when you show up with Gon?"

"I don't know, okay?" Ging took off his hat and ruffled his hair. "Look, I can't say for certain what will happen, but I also know I won't get anywhere if I never even _try_. Reina and I have too much history here."

_And yet, she still left you and Gon, didn't she?_ Mito wanted to say those words, in fact they sat at the edge of her tongue waiting to leap off of the cliff, but the look in Ging's eyes told her that he could not be swayed.

Ging lent a hand out to Gon, smiling the most natural grin he could muster. "So son, are you ready? Because it's time for us to be a family again, and it's time to go meet your mother."

* * *

Killua pressed the stack of papers closely against his chest, careful so they did not fall to his feet as he ascended the stairs. _I hope this is enough to convince them._

The light was on in his father's study, an invitation to step inside to the cool greyed room. Silva sat at his desk, his thick hands covering his face as Kikyo looked out of the window, her lips slowly moving. Silva shook his head, groaning as he ran his fingers through his hair. Killua's chest tensed at the thick atmosphere, pressing his body against the wall to better listen to the hushed conversation.

"We have to do this, Silva," Kikyo said, sighing, "what other choice do we have?"

"You mean other than continue to _raise_ her? You talk as if she's not our daughter."

"Of course she's our daughter, I was there," Kikyo turned and walked towards Silva, standing behind him and placing both hands on his shoulders. Her thin fingers worked their way into a massage, feathers soothing steel. "But that also means we have to do what's best for her."

"Best for her?" Silva turned in his seat, causing Kikyo's hands to fall, "or best for _you_?"

"Best for this family," Kikyo stepped back and painted her face in awe, "or have you forgotten Netero's words? Without him, there's no way we can make enough to last for a full year. Do you know how many tenants moved to this mountain in the past six months alone?"

"Yes I know. I also know that they are richer than the houses on this block combined, and most of them have already invested twenty percent into the council. We don't _need_ Netero's money, Kikyo."

"And how long do you think that will last us, Silva? They're going to want to see a profit being made and we can't give them that without Netero's organization. The last thing you want," she narrowed her eyes, driving her last argument further in, "is to wind up in a scandal and destroy everything your father worked so hard to rebuild."

Silva took a deep sigh, muttering to himself and standing from the seat. "I don't like this, Kikyo."

"Well," she said, eyeing the floor, "sometimes we have to do things we don't like."

"At the expense of your own daughter?"

"You heard the filth that came out of her mouth, right? I have _never_ in my life heard a _six_ year old speak such evil! She needs more than what we can give her. And that Nanika nonsense? Where does that come from?"

"I can answer that," Killua bashfully stepped into the room, gaining the shocked faces from his parents. He walked to Silva's desk and dropped the stacks of papers in the middle.

"Killua," Kikyo took a deep breath and massaged her temples, "it is very rude to eavesdrop on adult conversation, _any_ conversation."

"I didn't mean to, Mother, but I found something about Alluka that might help her."

Silva picked up the first paper, his eyes slowly scanning the words. He ran a tongue over his bottom lip before picking up another page. "MPSD?"

"What is that an acronym for?" Kikyo picked up the first page, following in Silva's mannerisms and soaking the information in.

"It means Multiple Personality Disorder. I went to the library at school and had the librarian look it up for me. All of the symptoms match what Alluka is going through."

"It says here that certain triggers can cause a person to slip into another being entirely," Silva sat as he continued to read everything over, "sort of like that game she and Netero were playing."

"And her other personality is called Nanika," Killua pointed to a highlighted sentence on the page, his growing finger wobbling over the words, "and this says that it can change a person's voice, appearance and behaviors. It all adds up."

Kikyo glanced over Silva's shoulders at the rest of the papers, her eyes narrowing further. "This isn't good. So she is mentally ill?"

"Don't say such atrocities as if it's a bad thing," Silva threatened, "she can't help the way she was made."

"No she can't," Kikyo whispered, "but _we_ can do something."

"So," Killua smiled, his chest dancing with hope, "does that mean that you'll take her to a doctor? You know, one that she can talk to?"

Kikyo inhaled, motioning for Killua to sit on the couch. She looked at Silva for support, but the silver haired man kept his eyes glued at his desk. "Silva," she said, "have we come to an agreement?"

"You're going to do whatever you want to anyways," Silva sighed, standing to leave, "so what is the point in asking?"

Kikyo grumbled before turning her attention back to Killua. "Kil, sweetie," she pulled him into a hug, "you know Mother loves you very much. Mother loves all of her children very much."

"Mmmm," Killua replied, feeling the poison that cuddled her words, "what's going on Mother?"

"Do you like living on the Mountain, Kil?"

Killua shrugged his shoulders. "It's okay. I haven't lived anywhere else, so it's all I know. I like playing in the garden with Alluka."

"I see," Kikyo's lips pursed, "well you don't want us to ever be homeless, do you?"

"No," Killua looked down, "I don't think I would like that."

"Good. Your father and I don't want that to happen either. In fact, we want nothing but the best for you children, with successful lives and a promising future on the council. That's we had Mr. Netero over yesterday; he's very important to us keeping our home and mountain and all of the wonderful things we have. But," she paused, circling her tongue over her words to only pull out the sweet ones, "your sister may prevent that from happening. And that is why your father and I have decided to send Alluka to another family, one that can help her better."

"What do you mean?" Killua's eyes watered, pulling from his mother's embrace and turning to face her directly. "You don't want Alluka anymore?"

"Alluka is sick, honey," Kikyo caressed his face, as if her fingers could soothe the sadness, "and we don't have the resources to help her."

"But," Killua's alligator tears spilled from his eyes, his cheeks puffing with crimson, "we have so much money! Can't we just hire someone to fix her?"

"It's not that simple, Kil," Kikyo pulled her hand back and looked out the window, "and our decision is final. I suggest that you spend what little time you have left with her."

Killua stared into his mother's face, searching for answers to the many questions she had. Kikyo had a peach blush that adorned her cheeks, and red lipstick that stained her lips, but in between her perfectly filled pores, he found nothing.

"Mother," he chimed, his voice thick, "you _can't_."

Kikyo turned her head down at him, her brown eyes pulling him in. "But sweetie, we _will._ "

Killua looked over to his father's empty desk, the stack of papers still scattered about. He felt his stomach greet his feet, and felt the urge to flee the situation, running as fast as his feet would allow.

He descended the stair case, nearly bumping into the figure that darkened the bottom step.

"Alluka," he breathed.

She turned her head slowly, and Killua gasped.

Dried blood crusted her nostrils, and her cheeks were purple, almost as if the child had taken to her face with a crayon, mistaking her pale skin for a canvas. Her bottom lip was red and swollen, and her eyes were droopy with tears. Killua felt the breath catch in the back of his throat, a lump that wouldn't dissipate no matter how many times he swallowed.

"Big Brother…" she said hoarsely, before breaking and sobbing.

Killua instinctively wrapped his arms around her, picking her small body up and carrying her out of the mansion and into the garden outside. Setting her down in the flowers, Killua couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the beautiful yellow plants and the beaten up body of his small sister. She was still sobbing, her tears flowing from her cheeks and into the grass below.

"Alluka," Killua managed to untangle his words and say, "what _happened_?"

"I was playing too roughly again," she cried through her broken tears, "and I fell."

"Stop it," Killua clenched his teeth, bending his head so that his hair invaded his eyes, "stop lying to me and tell me the _truth_."

Alluka cuddled up to his thigh, placing her head into his lap. She continued to let the tears fall, and Killua felt a choking lump in the back of his own throat. He ran his fingers through her hair, sshing her cries in an attempt to soothe her. She whimpered against his touch, and he drew his fingers back to see his prints stained with a light red liquid.

"Alluka," he whispered, his eyes widening in horror, "tell me, _please._ "

"I was bad again," she whispered, her voice thick with tears, "I was bad again and I was _punished_."

"What are you talking about?" Killua fought to keep his voice calm, but the fragile state of his sister was causing his veins to run electrifyingly hot. "Who punished you?"

"I was bad, Big Brother. I let Nanika come out again, when I was told not to. I was trained to not let her come out and play, but she _begged_ me, Big Brother, and I didn't want to tell her no."

"Explain slowly, Alluka. Tell me everything." She sobbed harder against his pant leg, the fabric going damp against his skin. "It's okay, Alluka. It's just me here, and you can trust your big brother."

"But I'm so scared," she whispered, hugging the fabric tighter, "I'm _scared_. I don't want any more lessons."

His chest contracted with her words, a certain line registering in his mind.

_After our lessons, of course…_

"Illumi," the name came out as a whisper on his tongue, tasting bitter and venomous, "Did Illumi do this to you?"

She slowly nodded, new tears cascading down her face. "He gives me lessons," she said through her tears, "so that I won't let Nanika out."

"What kind of lessons?" Killua asked, although he was afraid of the answer that would escape her lips.

"He _hits_ me," she whispered, "he says that he can get it out of me and that Nanika has to be punished. I was supposed to never tell anyone, or he would give me more lessons."

Killua felt his stomach tighten, his teeth crashing against each other, gritting in anger. He pulled Alluka closer, as if he could smother away the pain and relocate her to a happier place. He felt powerless, as if he indeed failed his duties as an older brother.

_No,_ he reprimanded himself _, I'm not the older brother that has failed_.

"After Mr. Netero left," she breathed into his leg, "Illumi was _very_ angry. He said that I had to get punished more because I ruined everything." She choked back a sobbing sound, "but I didn't mean to, Big Brother! I promise I didn't!"

"Don't," Killua exhaled, and the tears came without warning, "don't apologize, Alluka. You don't deserve this, you don't deserve _any_ of this. You're better than _all_ of them. You deserve better than this." He brought his head down on top of hers, sobbing into her hair. "I'm _sorry_ , Alluka. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you and Nanika. It's my job to make sure you're alright and I failed." _How can I make this up to you?_

"I just wish," she whispered, "that I could live this way with Big Brother forever and ever. No one else, just Alluka and Killua." _And Nanika._

Killua rehearsed her words over and over again in his head, a lemniscate of colorful text floating around in his brain. Everything _hurt_ ; the discovery of Alluka's bruises, the cruel intentions of Illumi, his parent's decision to rid themselves of Alluka, everything was a lump too big to swallow. Killua's mind raced, etched with decision upon decision, a dead end road at every corner. _How can I fix this?_

There had to be a way, he knew there had to be a way, for he and Alluka to spend the rest of their lives, unbothered, as happy as they were lounging around in the garden.

There had to be a way to preserve the bliss.

There had to…

"Alluka," he whispered against her black hair, several strands intruding his mouth, "I know how I can make that happen."

* * *

Ging's car stalled in front of a large yellow house, the front yard decorated with multi colored gnomes and benches, flowers sprouting from various pots. It looked like the homes that graced the pages of books that Mito would read him, and Gon pressed his palms against the glass in awe.

"Does she live _here_ , dad? Does my mother live here?"

Ging nodded, placing the car in park and glancing out of the window over Gon's head. "This is the place, 1702 Oak Trail Lane." Ging looked down at the paper in his hand and took a deep breath. "Now I want you to wait in the car for me, Gon, okay?"  
Gon turned and pouted, his large brown irises dilating. "Do I have to, dad?"

Ging ruffled his hair. "Don't make that face. When I come back, I'll have your mother with me, and then you can meet her properly, okay? It'll be about ten minutes."

Gon nodded, sulking in his seat. Ging took one last look at his son, wondering where the time passed since Reina announced her pregnancy. Now he stood in front of the home of a ghost, as Mito put it, wondering if he could revisit old memories and create new ones.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, his knees wobbling with anxiety. He pressed down on his shirt, smoothing any wrinkles and fixed his hair. He made his way up the path, taking in the various decorations that greeted his trail. _At least Reina has done well for herself._

He took a deep breath, mentally pushing himself forward before ringing the bell. He waited a spell before pressing it again, a honeyed voice from the other side telling him to wait.

His heart stopped as his chest constricted, the familiarity of the sweet voice knocking him back. _It's as beautiful as I remember._

A woman opened the door, her dark green hair cascading with curls down her face. Her eyes were large and golden, almost orange in certain light, and her skin was magnificently painted with foundation. She stared in shock at Ging, smoothing out the front of her red dress.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, her eyes darting wildly.

"Is that any way to greet me?" Ging chuckled, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. "It's been so long, Reina."

She cleared her throat, looking over her shoulder nervously before settling her eyes back on Ging. "It _has_ been a long time, Ging. Long enough that I never expected to see you again."

"I can imagine," Ging rubbed the back of his neck, slicking down thick unruly black strands of hair, "but it feels so good to look at you again all the same. You're still so beautiful, Reina."

"You shouldn't be here." She said the words quickly and hushed, each one slapping Ging across the cheek.

"You can't mean that," Ging said, half laughing, "there's no way you could turn us down after all of this time."

" _Us_?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, _us._ I brought our son along, Reina. He's in the car."

She looked behind him, glancing at the boy in the passenger seat who looked all too familiar, bringing back a pain that she had long buried. She licked her bottom lip and moved a curl out of her face. Her brows lowered to an angry expression and she took a deep breath. "Ging, I-"

"Honey?" A tall, bald, muscular man appeared behind Reina, adorned in a blue suit, and placed his arm around her waist. He kissed her cheek and looked back and forth between her and Ging. "Everything okay?"

"Is he," Ging felt his heart split, a fragile paper organ that was impossible to fix, "your boyfriend?"

"Her _husband_ ," the man corrected, extending a hand, "Hanzo."

"Husband…" Ging whispered, the words curling over his tongue like a fly that flew into his mouth without invitation.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"He's an old friend, darling," Reina tightened her face, a threat to play along, "he was in the neighborhood and decided to say hello. We haven't seen each other in probably eight years!"

" _Ten_ ," Ging spat, "it's been ten years, Reina."

"Such a long time!" Hanzo beamed. "Well, come on in! Any friend of Reina is a friend of ours, and I'm sure you two have much catching up to do."

"Honey, that really won't be necessary-"

"Nonsense," he leaned over Reina and pushed Ging along inside, "I just finished making lunch and there's more than enough to share, especially with the kids spending the day at their grandparents."

" _Kids_?" Ging felt dizzy and was glad Hanzo was there to support his weight.

"Yeah we have two boys and a little girl. They're from my previous marriage, but Reina here has been in their lives for the majority of their childhood." Hanzo walked Ging to the kitchen , beaming every step of the way.

"How old are they?" Ging asked in a daze.

"My oldest is going on fifteen now and my youngest is eleven. Time sure does fly. You got any kids?"

"Your youngest is eleven," Ging repeated, looking over at Reina who sulked by the doorway to the kitchen. He looked at her and imagined flames swallowing her whole. "Which means that you two got together around the last time I saw her." _Around the time she abandoned me and our son._

"Yeah when I saw her," Hanzo pulled her into an embrace as she filled their plates with food, "I thought to myself, _who is this ethereal being?_ I just had to have her, she was dating some loser at the time, some down on his luck bastard who couldn't keep a job, and I stepped in and swooped her off of her feet. Showed her how a lady should be treated, isn't that right honey?"

"Mmm," Reina smiled forcefully, her lips painted in a tight line.

"Some _loser_? A _bastard_?" Ging's eyes angrily darted to Reina, accusation swimming underneath. "Is _that_ what you told him, Reina?"

"Ging…"

"Tell me the truth, damnit! You told him that bullshit!?"

"Whoa, buddy," Hanzo reached his hand across the counter, "calm down now. Why are you so angry?"

"Why am I so _angry!?_ Maybe it's because this down and out loser bastard is discovering that the woman he loved all of these years is a fucking _monster_."

"Excuse me?" Hanzo's eyes narrowed dangerously, stepping closer. "Just what the hell is going on?"

"Tell him, Reina."

"I think it's time," Reina stepped in between them, acting as protection, "for you to go, Ging."

"Not until you tell him, damnit! Tell him about _us._ About your _son._ "

Reina's face dropped, her stomach doing flips.

"Your son?" Hanzo said quietly, "Reina, do you—"

"No," she replied sternly, her voice coming through scratchy and uneven, "he's lying. He always comes around to make my life miserable."

"What the hell is with you Reina?!" Ging screamed, wrapping his fingers around his hair. "What happened to the woman I _loved_? When did you turn into such a cold _bitch?_ "

"Okay, whoever the hell you are," Hanzo interrupted, "get the hell out of my house right now!"

"I am not leaving," Ging placed his palm against the counter, his stance planted firmly, "until she tells the fucking truth."

Hanzo reached into his pocket and disappeared into the cupboard behind them. When he emerged, he was carrying a small pistol, fitting snuggly in his palms, the barrel aimed at Ging.

"Hanzo!" Reina yelled. "Put that away!"

"Not until he gets the hell out of my house. I see the stories were true," he smiled sinisterly, "you're just a piss poor excuse of a man who doesn't know when he's lost. Get the fuck out of my house before I spill your blood on our freshly tiled kitchen floor."

Ging felt his blood run hot, his breathing becoming more rapid. Before thinking, he lunged at Hanzo, causing him to fire immediately. Ging dodged at the last moment, tackling a stunned Hanzo to the ground and punching him in the face.

"You ruined _everything_ , you bastard! You took my love away from me and you ruined my son's chance at a family!" Ging continued his tirade of punches until a soft gurgling sound caused him to look over.

"H-Hanzo…" Reina lay in a pool of blood, the same dark burgundy as her dress, her eyes opened wide in horror. She looked at her husband, her arm reaching out and the other clutching her stomach.

"R-Reina!" Hanzo muttered underneath Ging's weight, finding his strength and flipping him off. He made his way over to his wife, his knees wobbly against the tile, and tilted her head into his lap. "Reina, honey…."

She attempted to speak to him, but blood caught into a gurgle into her throat, pooling out of the sides of her mouth like fresh paint. Ging watched the scene in disbelief; was the Reina that he knew and loved, even despite her flaws, laying in a pool of her own blood dying?

Was _he_ the cause of it?

Hanzo cradled her hand into his, pressing her figure against his own and crying out into agony. He stilled for a moment, his back to Ging's as he broke out into a sob and dropped Reina's hand, her limp palm smacking against the wet floor in a sickening sound. Hanzo screamed, a blood curdling cry, hugging Reina close against his body. " _You!_ " he said deadly, standing up and carefully setting Reina down. "You did this! If you had never come, my wife would still be alive!"

He lurched forward, his arms reaching out for Ging's neck. Ging, in little reaction time, reached for the gun and fired a singular shot, a hole in the middle of his head emerging with blood. He dropped to the floor instantly, his arm still reaching out in Ging's direction.

Ging looked onward in shock and horror, his staggering hand grappled over the gun. His muscles rolled unsteadily, the pulse of his veins throbbing at his wrists. His fingers trembled as he rolled the handle over in his palms, looking down at the executioner. Sweat beads poured over the smooth curves of his forehead, making their way downward and lodging into the spaces between his nose and cheek. In that brief moment, he thought of Gon in all of his ten years: the moment Reina said she was pregnant, his first walks, the first time he said "Dad", when he went to school for the first time. And then he thought of all the moments that he would miss.

"I'm sorry Gon," he said softly, "be good. I love you."

And then, there was a shot.

* * *

Killua piled their bodies in the backseat of the family car and shut the door. Alluka drowsily rested her head on his shoulder, thanks to the cold medicine he gave her. He smoothed out her hair, propping her up against the back seat. He leaned over, the key fumbling in his fingers. He turned back to Alluka and smiled half heartedly. "Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyes droopy on the edge of sleep. "I'm ready, Big Brother."

Killua licked his lips, his heart beating roughly against his chest. He took a deep breath and turned the key into the ignition and starting it. He looked above for the remote control, pressing the button for _garage door_. He watched the door slowly fall as the hum of the engine rolled over softly in his ears. As the gap to the outside narrowed, he felt his stomach tighten further. _There is no turning back now_.

He leaned back against the seat, repositioning Alluka's head against his shoulder blade. She looked up at him again, her blinking slowing down and her eyes staying shut longer. "What now, Big Brother?" she whispered sleepily, "What do we do now?"

He caressed the side of her face, kissing the top of her forehead. Her skin was smooth, the color of milk, and she smelled like berries. A tear raced down his face and fell on his collar bone.

"Now we wait," he whispered against her forehead, "and then we sleep."

* * *

Gon anxiously tapped the interior of the car, looking back over at the house. It was so silent now, compared to when he saw Ging go inside. It had to have been about an hour, and Ging had only told him ten.

_He wouldn't be that mad, if I went inside. It's hot_.

He unbuckled his seat belt and raced to the door, excited that he could meet his mother. Not that he had paid much thought to it, but Ging seemed very excited at the idea, and if he was happy then so was Gon.

He knocked on the white door, his fist barely making a loud thump. When he received no answer, he turned the knob, feeling the door ease open like melting butter.

"Dad?" He called out, looking down the long hallway. A light was on in the room to the left, but other than that, the house was so eerily quiet.

"Dad?" Gon called out louder again, fixating his ears on trying to hear the faintest indication of a conversation. Instead he heard the humming of an air conditioner unit, louder than he would have liked.

"Dad! I came inside because it was too hot!" He called again, and still nothing. He made his way down the hall, taking in the various art works that decorated the walls. He followed the light, peeking around the corner to see a stove.

"Dad, are you in here?" Gon stepped into the room, almost tripping over a shoe, a high heel like the ones Mito wore.

A high heel that was still attached to a foot.

Gon screamed at the lifeless body of Reina, before noticing that Hanzo wasn't too far away. "DAD! PLEASE COME SAVE ME!"

Gon's eyes betrayed his thoughts, slowly following the trail of Hanzo's palm to the man in front.

The cap, the thick hair, the blue shirt…

"D-dad?" Gon choked, his chest feeling heavy and his throat closing. He approached slowly, kneeling down next to the body. Ging's eyes were still opened, staring blankly at a space in the wall. Gon reached out to touch him, his eyes flooding with tears. "Come on dad, wake up." His voice became thicker as he shook Ging, a sloshing wet sound emerging as a result.

He didn't move.

He didn't wake up.

In that moment, Gon felt hopeless, a sinking weight pressing down in his belly. Everything that he wanted, everything he had waited for...

Gone.

Emptiness set in like an old friend, warm and inviting yet distant and cold. His hero, his entire reason for wanting to grow up big and strong, laid in a lifeless puddle.

Gon had seen this type of thing before in movies and on television, but he never thought he would see it in person. He never thought he would see it with his father….

_Death…._

And Gon did the only thing he knew that he could do.

He ran.

* * *

"Will they be all right?"

"Yes, although I must say you've reached them in time. Any longer, and I don't think they would still be here."

"Thank God. Thank you, doctor."

The voices swam through Killua's head, pulling him out of his nap. They sounded so faint and distant, but when he opened his eyes, he saw they were right next to his…bed?

His eyes shot open fully, and his throat hurt to talk. He made a low grumbling sound, catching the attention of the figures, who he noticed were his parents and Gotoh.

"Master Killua!"

"Oh, Kil!"

"Killua, son!"

Killua looked at them as his eyes fluttered open and shut, and he realized he was _tired._ _What was the last thing? What happened last?_

Kikyo sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed out his hair, her eyes blinking away tears. "Oh, Killua, what were you _thinking_?"

Killua shook his head, trying to remember what he had done. The images piled together in a time loop: the car, Alluka's bruises, starting the ignition, closing the door.

Oh yes, he recalled, he had tried to end it.

So what had gone wrong?

"Gotoh found you, son," Silva said, almost as if he had clairvoyance, "he found the both of you before it was too late."

Killua looked over at Gotoh, an apology laced underneath his irises. Small droplets of tears started to make their way through, and Gotoh wiped them away with a napkin.

"It's okay, Master Killua. You're safe now."

Killua shook his head again, tears streaming down his face. He wanted to ask about Alluka, but it hurt to talk. He ferociously shook his head until Silva walked over and calmed him.

"Son," he said softly, "did you do this because of the news your Mother gave you?"

"No, Silva!" Kikyo looked at Kikyo in disbelief. "Don't make me the cause of this. He did this because of Alluka."

"What the hell does she have to do with this, Kikyo? He was trying to kill them both!"

Kikyo motioned for him to lower his voice and tame the beast that was emerging. "Are you trying to get us kicked out, Silva? Alluka is very bruised and she probably coerced him into doing it!"

"Actually, madam," Gotoh raised a finger, "I believe this _may_ have something to do with it." He reached inside of his coat and pulled out a notebook, Illumi's name scrawled on the front.

Kikyo snatched it out of his palms, impatiently fingering it open and reading the text.

"Where did you get this, Gotoh," she snapped, her teeth clenched. "Have you been snooping through our things?"

"It fell out of Master Illumi's pocket during the wash, Madam," Gotoh replied, his face never breaking and his stance still firm.

"What does it say, Gotoh?" Silva pondered, his arms crossed and his voice deep.

"It's a diary," Kikyo answered, "a record of Alluka's _lessons._ Apparently he has been taking matters into his own hands and…punishing…Alluka."

"My god," Silve turned and wiped his mouth, pacing in anger. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know, Master Silva," Gotoh approached Silva carefully, "but I believe that Master Killua found out, and this is the only way he could escape it."

"Oh, Killua," Kikyo placed a palm against his cheek, before turning back to Silva. "Silva, I believe that we should move to your plan B."

Silva whirled around, his face shocked. "Plan B? You're still thinking about Alluka? Kikyo, Illumi harmed our daughter!"

"For _our_ family, Silva. It was to help out our family!"

Silva's face dropped, recognition seeping into his pores. "You….you _knew_?"

Kikyo sighed, placing her hands firmly against her lap. "I didn't know he was taking it this far."

Silva mouthed a curse, walking over to the window and slamming his fist against it. "What the hell is wrong with you Kikyo!?"

"It was either that or deal with her messing up our lives, Silva! I only asked him to scare her into never speaking of Nanika again, I didn't know he would take it that far."

Silva raced forward, causing Kikyo to leap back in fear that he would hit her. Instead, he waved a thick finger in front of her face, his teeth tightly grinding against each other.

"She is not going anywhere, Kikyo. She will stay in our mansion," he dropped his finger and sighed, racing his finger through his hair. "But in the apartment below."

Kikyo nodded, fear still coursing through her veins and throbbing against her neck. She turned slowly to Killua, grabbing his hand. His body felt weak, but he wanted to snatch it away and run out of the room. His IV dripped again into his arm, and he felt the grogginess of sleep take over him.

"Get some sleep, Kil. You're safe and sound now, and now Alluka will be too."

His eyes fluttered open again as he took in the image of his mother, minus the horns that he knew adorned the top of her head. She leaned over and rubbed his forehead.

"Don't worry, Kil, we finally know how to help Alluka."

* * *

It had been a month since that day, since Gon had ran to the neighbors and urged them to call the police. After much calling around, Mito was finally reached, and she came to the police station to retrieve the trembling boy. She had scooped him into her embrace, hugging him tightly with no intention on letting go. Even though she didn't say it, Gon could feel the words spilling from her fingertips, tiny secrets that she would chew on before she slept.

_I knew something bad would happen, and this is why I didn't want him to go._

A month of being a part of a media circus frenzy had taken its toll on Mito, and she decided that a fresh start would be best for the both of them. She packed all of their belongings and moved them to Whale Island, a place where people went to retire and get away from their everyday lives. _The perfect place for Gon to start over_.

Gon wasn't the same cheerful boy he was, and why should he be? Mito had no idea how to get him rolling again, how to give him the future that was so drearily far away.

But damn it if she wouldn't try.

She cooked his favorite foods, played his favorite games, exhausted herself beyond the brinks of sleep to make sure that he felt some semblance of a childhood. Little by little, she saw the cracks in his sentiment, but the sadness still covered him like a second skin.

She watched him, the glow of his skin fading, the black of his hair starting to match the toned down honeyed eyes.

Mito wondered, if Gon would ever be whole again?

Would she ever be whole again?

_How do we bounce back from this?_

She had a new little boy to raise, and a new puzzle to fix. And in the back of Mito's mind, she hoped that someday, _someday_ , Gon would put this behind him and move on.

She hoped that one day the headlines would forget about the _Small Town Massacre_ and the _Heartbreak Kid_ , as the media so eloquently put it.

She wanted Gon to have nothing to do with that, so this was the life she would create for them.

Mito just willfully hoped that the decisions would not swallow him in the process.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, THIS WAS REALLY HARD TO WRITE
> 
> IM SORRY IN ADVANCE IF THIS WAS TOO MUCH FOR SOME READERS, BUT NOW YOU GUYS ALL KNOW THE SECRETS. (A LOT OF YOU GUYS YELLED AT ME TO ANSWER THEM LOL HOPE I DELIVERED! :D)
> 
> I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED THIS CHAPTER, AND I HOPED I ANSWERED THE QUESTIONS YOU HAD!
> 
> THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOO MUCH GUYS FOR ALL OF THE REVIEWS THIS TIME AROUND! YOU GUYS MADE ME DAY TIME AND TIME AGAIN! ITS SUCH AN AMAZING THING TO KNOW THAT I CAN BE DOING DAILY RANDOM THINGS, AND ILL CHECK MY EMAIL AND READ REVIEWS OR KUDOS OR FAVORITES ETC AND ITS SO COOL TO KNOW SOMEONE LIKED WHAT IM READING! THE BEST FEELING EVER!
> 
> THANKS TO ALL OF MY NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS! IF YOU GUYS EVER WANT TO CONNECT ON ANY SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS, LET ME KNOW! I LOVE MEETING NEW PEOPLE!
> 
> PLEASE REVIEW, GOOD OR BAD, AND CONTINUE TO BE YOUR AWESOME SELVES!
> 
> (ALSO LONGEST CHAPTER AWARD! WHEEW! *WIPES FOREHEAD*)
> 
> UNTIL NEXT TIME, FRIENDS!
> 
> ~BITCHII-USA


	12. Twelve: A Lake of Fireflies

_**Twelve** _

_**Lake of Fireflies** _

Killua scraped his finger against the cherry wood of the library desk, angry lines etched in the surface. He drew back his fingers and scoffed at the wood chips that painted a brown residue under the nails. _Messy_ , he silently complained, rubbing his fingers on the inside of his hoody pocket, _just like everything else right now_.

Killua sighed deeply, sulking farther into the chair. Lunchtime was a period he thoroughly enjoyed, an excuse to chat with Zushi and Gon and not think about anything else. And since his return from his dramatic _one-_ day departure from Yorkshin, the golden egg he nestled over had been forcefully ripped from his warmth. Now the time was spent in silence between him and Zushi, an uncomfortable weight sleeping between them.

The quietness of the library rang loudly in his ears, causing him to press his forehead against the desk. It was a cooled contrast from the heat that radiated from his skin, and he closed his fist and struck it against his knee.

"Killua, are you feeling alright?"

Killua rose instantly, hoping the voice belonged to a certain bronzed statue. To his disappointment, although he wasn't completely devastated, Zushi hovered over him, carrying a lunch tray and wearing a look of concern like a veil.

"Yeah, Zushi, I'm alright," he ran his palm down his face in an attempt to bring himself back to reality, "I just needed to get myself together."

"Tell me about it," Zushi sat down across from him, forking through his green peas. He looked over again at Killua, whose narrowed eyes were studying the fibers in the carpeting that lined the wall. Zushi frowned in sympathy, taking a deep breath. "So," he spoke quietly, forcing Killua to meet his gaze, "have you talked to him?"

Killua scuffed his shoe against the leg of the desk and firmly looked down at his lap. "Barely," he whispered, "he always makes an excuse to go do something else. It's like…" he paused for a second, afraid of the words escaping his lips and granting them power, "it's like he doesn't want me around anymore."

"Don't do that to yourself," Zushi passed his chocolate pudding cup over to Killua in an attempt to cheer him up. It didn't take Zushi long to realize that the silver haired teen was a chocolate lover, and other than Gon, appeared to be his vice. Killua smiled a half grin, reaching for the cup before devouring it. "I really don't think it's personal against you. _I_ haven't even talked to him."

_If only you knew what happened, Zush, you wouldn't rush to the conclusion._

"What really worries me," Zushi continued, "is that he hasn't even _mentioned_ the Wing gallery this weekend. This is _Wing_ , of all people, and he hasn't even squealed in excitement once. Has he forgotten, or-or does he not want to go?" Zushi bit into a piece of his pizza, his lips already preparing themselves to finish his anxious rant. "Is he really going to miss out on this once in a lifetime deal? He could _meet_ him, for crying out loud. How do we fix this, I mean, where do we even start—"

"Zushi." Killua looked sternly across the table, taking the last bite from his pudding. "You can't let yourself get that riled up. It isn't good for the situation and it won't help Gon." _Tell that to yourself, Killua._

"You're right," Zushi sighed, gulping down another bite of pizza before leaning back against the chair. "I'm sorry, it's just I've never seen him like this before and it bothers me." Zushi tasted the question that stained his tongue, bitter and uninviting and bothersome. "I know it may be none of my business, and I'll prematurely apologize if I'm being too nosy, but, what _happened_ , Killua?"

Killua's eyes darted towards the beige lines in the cherry wood, his fingers mapping out their puzzled pathways. He remained silent, the answers to Zushi's question tangling in the back of his throat and forming tumbleweeds.

"I mean," Zushi said with a sigh, "you're gone one day, and Gon's perfectly fine, and then you both are gone for a few days, and when you guys come back, everything's different. Did you two…you know…is it okay to say break up? Are you officially dating yet?"

Killua shook his head, too emotionally invested in Gon's well -being to care about titles and labels. He would tell anyone who dared to stand in his proximity that he loved Gon and he was his boyfriend if it meant having him around again. Although Killua bathed in the blue of the night, it was his dance with the sun that made him a believer of the universe again.

"We're not broken up, far from it, it's just…" Killua looked at Zushi, his eyes brimming with wetness. He wiped them on the back of his sleeve to prevent questions from arising that even he couldn't answer. "Gon needs his space right now. And I'm more than willing to give it to him, but it's _killing_ me."

"That's understandable. And while I'm no master of relationships, I can guarantee you that Gon loves you and whatever he's going through will pass. Mark my words."

"I dunno," Killua sulked in the chair. _You didn't see his face, Zushi. You didn't hear the agony that laced his words. You didn't hold him when he broke._

"Well maybe you could talk to him in art class? Maybe bring up the subject of Wing, or something? I just," Zushi took a sip of his juice, washing the liquid around in his mouth to clean up his dirtied words. "I just want my friend back," he whispered.

"Yeah," Killua responded in a monotone, "ditto, Zush."

_I swear I'll try to get him back to normal. I just hope that he can trust in the power of broken things._

* * *

Gon settled into his desk, his eyes pressing down towards the white tile of a floor. He didn't bother looking up, but he could feel the lack of warmth that Killua so willingly gave off. _Have I finally done it?_ Gon scrunched the fabric of jeans at his knee. _Have I ultimately pushed Killua away too?_

He wasn't sure why he couldn't-or rather _wouldn't_ \- talk to Killua. All he understood, the only process that his brain would allow, is that every time he stared into the cold terrains of frost in Killua's irises, everything hurt. The pain would twist around in his belly, making him feel dizzy until he felt as if he would collapse all together.

Killua hurt, too. There was no way that he could be fine, not after the story that he told. And Gon could feel the magnetic pull of their jointed pain gnawing at him like a hungry lion, but he couldn't force himself to be drawn in to danger.

This fact, more than most, upset him entirely. The one person in the world who had swallowed the same nightmarish poison as he, who could understand the most of what he was feeling, was the one person whom Gon couldn't bring himself to even converse with.

But _why_? Gon searched for the answer as he looked at the stars behind his eyelids, hoping to trace out the mystery in the vivid black and reds of his mind. He searched in the lines of his palm, in the tips of his fingers, even the bumps over his tongue all kept their secrets, providing no resolution to his hardened angst.

And until Gon could answer his own questions, how could he give them to Killua?

Gon decided that he would not be like his ten year old counterpart. He would not smother the one that he loved the most, _needed_ the most.

This time, he affirmed, he would let his love go.

Gon was startled back to the present as a weight of a book bag caused the table to shift. He looked over slightly to see white hair cascading in front of his face. Killua's eyes were pleading, caressing Gon's cheeks with their intensity. He smiled a toothy smile, a test of the waters. Gon smiled back, his heart rising and falling in the same beat.

"Hey, Gon," Killua reached into his backpack and pulled out a juice, "I missed you today."

"Yeah," Gon reached for the juice and swallowed the lump in his throat, "thank you for the juice, Killua."

Killua nodded in response, but his frown couldn't be avoided. _Why is this so hard to talk to you, Killua? You're the only one that I want to talk to, but my tongue is dry with unsaid words._

"So," Killua said, his voice shaky, "how long are we going to keep this up?"

Gon pressed his mouth to the juice top, wishing it was that easy to lean over and collide fire with ice. _It is that easy, I'm just making it hard._

"I don't know," he said quietly as he pulled the bottle from his lips, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Gon," Killua reached over and placed his palm on top of his, relieved that Gon didn't pull it back like he had been doing the past few weeks. Although the hesitation in his fingers seeped through the cracks in his skin, marinating in Killua's veins. "You know that I love you. That's no secret, I tell you all of the time. With that love means that I'll be here when you're feeling like a god, or when you can barely brush the dirt from your sleeves. You don't have to push me away."

"I know," Gon whispered, his voice thick, "I know that you love me, Killua. And I love you too, but, it's….it's just _hard_ right now."

"I know it is, Gon. And I'm not telling you that it'll be an easy fix. All I'm saying is please," Killua laced his fingers through Gon's, his promise speaking through his tips, " _please_ let me try to fix us. I'm strong enough to do it."

"But how," Gon turned to Killua, beads of water threatening to betray his resolve, " _how_ can you fix something when you yourself are _broken_?"

Killua caught the lump in his throat, his eyelids fluttering in response. How could he answer that? Tell him to shut up and _trust_ him? There were a lot emotions that Killua could pluck from Gon's eyes, but trust just wasn't one of them.

But he had to convince him, there was no way around that.

Gon wasn't someone that Killua could just let get away.

He was….well…he was Killua's _light_.

And you don't swear off the sun just because the heat douses you in an uncomfortable sweat.

Bisky glided in the room, her eccentric aura ceasing the conversations amongst the students. Her long, pink flowing skirt created waves behind her, an ethereal goddess that demanded attention. She smiled warmly at the class, a fishbowl in hand.

"I bet you I don't have to tell you what this means," she rattled the fishbowl around, tiny papers swishing inside, "I'm sure most of you know that the fishbowl means an observation activity is coming. But this time, I've decided to kick it up a bit."

"In college, I was friends with a woman who was an art major. And I could tell you all how unbelievably talented she was," she pulled out a canvas from behind her desk, "or I could just show you." The canvas depicted a woman with an elongated neck, swirls of yellows, oranges and reds replacing her flesh. Grays and blacks were stroked impatiently at her neck in smoke, the colors colliding into an ombre of fire. The woman had a determined look in her electric green eyes, contrasting the burned skin that was emphasized with maroons and purples. Flames trickled out of the sides of her mouth in a fury of reds and yellows, while several brown wisps of hair were falling to the sides of her face. Bisky looked at the painting for a while and smiled before setting it back down. "Amazing, right? True story: she painted this after she escaped an abusive relationship. When I asked her about it, she said that it was her take of rising through the ashes, making one with your pain instead of letting it defeat you. I was completely taken aback, and for good reason. Without even trying, she held a mirror to my face and made me tackle my own flaws head on. And she gave it to me without much begging from my end. All because she thought it was terrible."

"How?" Gon whispered, "How could she ever think that something like that was _terrible_?"

"What was that, Mr. Freecs?"

"Oh, um," Gon cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck, "I was just wondering how someone could look at _that_ and think that it's terrible."

"Oh?" Bisky took a seat on the stool and crossed her legs, her hands clasped around her knee cap like a tight necklace, "Are you saying that you don't agree with the artist, Mr. Freecs?"

"I mean, yeah. I guess I don't agree." Gon narrowed his eyes in Bisky's direction. "Is that a trick question?"

"No, absolutely not," she laughed, her body vibrating against the metal, "I want your honest opinion."

"Well, I think it's _magnificent_. Her color choices and overall scheme seems so flawless, but effortless like she didn't spend too much time worrying about it. It's like she was suffocating and now she can _breathe_ , like she made her own freedom instead of waiting around for it. I dunno, I guess I can see her emotional state when she painted it, but I get the feeling that there's so much more that she wants to say."

"All of that," Bisky smiled, "just by looking at it? You have a quizzical mind, Gon. And you've also helped to prove my point. You see, sometimes as artists we feel the need to always be perfect, as if we're immune to failure. Because we're literally painting our souls and putting it on display like some sort of freak show, we have this self-obligation to only put out what _we_ think is beauty. But therein lies the problem: art is not only for _us_. My friend here painted this to get over a bad situation, but I'm willing to bet that she never assumed that I'd be using it years later to show a class of art enthusiasts. It's _bigger_ than perfection; it's bigger than the final picture. You see, there's beauty in the flawed and the spontaneity of a piece. What I'm trying to get at here is that there's a wonderful piece in each of you if you just learn to _trust_ yourselves. And I know that's easier said than done, so today you and your partner are going to do a little exercise. The left side of the tables, please pull out your drawer."

Gon slid the wooden compartment and unveiled a black handkerchief. He stared at it puzzlingly, wondering if he should tie it behind his ears.

"Okay for those of you who found the handkerchief, I want to you to blindfold yourselves. Don't be shy, now, I promise you it's for a good reason," Bisky hopped down from the stool, humming _Hello Darkness My Old Friend_.

"I didn't realize it was _that_ type of classroom," Killua chuckled, prompting a playful grin from Gon. Killua fought back the urge to sketch the small gesture so that he could look at it when he was alone, a reminder of what he was fighting for.

"Okay little adults, so now that you're all nice and blind, I'll explain the task. Each of you that are blindfolded will get a topic that your partner will read to you. It will be your job to explain to your partner _exactly_ what it is that you want to be painted on the canvas. Your partner, in turn, will guide your hand, using only three clues that you can give them. This will show you a few things about yourselves: how well do you listen? How well do you convey messages? How much time have you been spending getting to know one another? All of these will be crucial for you to get the results you're looking for. Most importantly, how well can you trust each other to cross the finish line? This involves you to be able to trust yourself _and_ your partner. I believe the results will be interesting, and grading will be done on effort. Alright, everyone, I'll be walking around with the fishbowl, you all start setting up!"

Gon tightened the knot in the back of his head, the darkness being welcomed as it suffocated him whole. He turned to the last memory of Killua, feeling around for his paint brushes.

"Here," Killua bent down and reached Gon's sack, "let me help you out."

"Thanks," Gon said quietly, his mental distraction floating away like an abandoned balloon. He could feel Killua's shadow behind him and he shivered at the sudden warmth. Killua's radiating warmth hugged him tightly like an old friend, pulling Gon in closer until he wanted to drown in its abyss. But the frightening chill that pulsated through his spine pulled tightly back on his reins, ceasing his fantasy.

"So," Killua scooped down, his cheek grazing against Gon's ear, "it's been awhile since we've been this intimate, huh?"

Gon swallowed thickly, the urge to crumble in Killua's arms electrifying his insides. _I can't do that_ , he berated himself, _he doesn't deserve what I could do to him._

"Gon," Killua interrupted, sighing and placing his palm on to of Gon's shoulders, " _talk_ to me, please. I'm more than just a hot body, you know."

Gon chuckled lightly, the unease still swimming deep in his chest. "Is that how you see yourself, Killua?"

"No, but it got you to laugh, so it was worth the bravado."

Gon twiddled his thumbs around each other, biting gently on his bottom lip. "Killua," he whispered, "I'm _sorry_."

"Don't you know anything, Freecs?" Killua wanted to turn Gon around and yank the handkerchief from his eyes and force him to gaze into the promise of absolution that was his soul. "I told you before, you don't have to go through anything alone. I don't want your apology; I just want you to stop pushing me aside."

"Here you go, boys," Bisky waved the fishbowl in front of Killua, demanding his attention, "go ahead and pick a topic."

Killua stuck his fingers inside, praying to whomever would listen that the topic would break the walls that protected Gon's emotional dam. Pulling back the slip of paper, he read the question in slight disappointment.

"It says," he read to Gon, "to paint your favorite dream as a child."

Gon stuck out his thumb, clearly indicating that he had no plans to return to the previous conversation. "I'm ready."

"That fast? You don't want to think about it?"

Gon shook his head instantly, the corners of his mouth uprooting. "There's only one place," he said softly, "that I used to dream about. I would like to paint that place, if we can."  
"I believe," Killua pulled out his tin can and paint supplies, walking towards the sink, "that depends on how well you give me your clues."

Gon pictured it vividly in his mind, clasping on to the colors and scenery that existed in the shadows of his eyelids. He tried to pull out three distinct things about it to convey to Killua.

"Okay," Killua set the water filled tin can on the desk and hovered over Gon, "I'm going to wrap my hand around yours now."

Gon nodded, bracing himself for the pleasurable touch. Killua's fingers were silk feathers; his milk skin gliding softly against Gon's wrists. He missed Killua's touch, and was secretly glad for any excuse to feel it again.

"So I guess the first thing I would tell you," Gon bit his lip in apprehension, his words colliding together in a helix of inflated tones, "is that there are a lot of fireflies."

"Fireflies?" Killua swirled the paintbrush that pressed against the whites of Gon's wrist in the water, watching the ripples manifest in its wake. "I don't remember you ever telling me a story about fireflies."

Gon's lips curved into a half smile, and he took a deep breath, feeling his belly warm with the intrusion of air. "It's a dream that I've had more than once as a child. After everything-" he swallowed roughly, feeling his throat constrict with phantom tears that threatened the inner corner of his eyes, "It was a nice dream, afterall."

Killua glanced over briefly at his counterpart, watching the subtltly of Gon's restraint under his scarf. He knew, and would surely bet, that Gon was more than relieved that he had the mask to hide his true emotions. How badly did he want to yank the thing off, toss it to the side, and force him to see reason! Instead he choked down his own resolve, hoping that Gon would continue.

"Killua?"

"Yes, Gon."

"Are you ready for the next clue?"

Killua chuckled, his gesture vibrating against Gon's sleeve. "Of course. After all, we can only continue if you steer the ship, captain."

"Well," Gon smirked, "if you insist on watching me drown…"

"As if I'd let you, Gon," Killua hoped that Gon could read the undertone of the true intentions of his words.

"I'd say the next clue would be water." Gon's voice turned back to its deep robotic tone, and Killua felt the hope that danced inside of his chest collapse with exhaustion. "A beautiful body of water. Serene and unattainable, like a hidden wonder of the world."

"What kind of dream is this?"

" _My_ dream, Killua. And I hope that you take good care of it."

Killua chuckled again, dipping the paintbrush into an ocean of blues and ivory greens before taking the

virginity of the canvas. He relished in how easily Gon allowed his hand to be corrupted by Killua's touch, the same way he let his body be corrupted…

"Killua," Gon interrupted his thoughts, "you're painting already? I haven't given you the third clue yet."

""S okay. I can see it in my mind. This is the part where you're supposed to trust me, remember?"

Killua felt Gon squirm underneath his arm, and chastised himself in case he said the right thing prematurely. The air became thick with tension, threatening to suffocate the both of them until they were reduced to star dust. He cleared his throat and trickled the anxiety away, concentrating on perfecting the painting.

"Killua," Gon whispered, his voice betraying his stubbornness, "are _you_ going to see Wing this weekend?"

Killua ceased the brushstrokes, looking down at Gon. He was wondering how he should ease the topic into the conversation, but it appeared that Gon had beat him to the punch.

"It wouldn't feel right," he swallowed thickly, "if you don't come. Besides, I wouldn't even know who the guy is if it wasn't for you." He paused, turning the next sentence over in his tongue to taste if it was sweet enough to brew. With a sigh, he blurted out, "I _want_ to go, Gon. But I only want to go with _you._ "

Gon took another deep breath, and with a hidden chuckle Killua contemplated telling him that he would make a nice yoga instructor. "I would like to, but I don't want to meet him like this."

Killua sighed, his grip around the paintbrush weakening. He skimmed his fingers lightly over Gon's, hoping that the touches could say the words that lodged in his throat. Gon's lips were drawn into a tight line that curved downwards, and Killua knew that honey irises were tainted with worry underneath the scarf. "Gon," he started, breathing a new life around the syllables, "if you let this opportunity pass you up, you'll always regret it."

"I know, Killua, but-"

"No." Killua crouched down so that his eye level met the sharp lines of Gon's jaw, his blue orbs flickering in determination at the flesh. "Gon, I know that it's tough for you, having to finally come to terms with everything that happened. I know that you weren't expecting to have to live in the truth, and you weren't expecting to do it with someone else. But I refuse to let you miss out on something so important out of _fear_." Killua's voice became shaky and his breathing unstable. He swallowed for composure, wondering if he should drop the subject before Gon broke completely, but the promise that he would bring Gon back to reality swirled inside of him like a typhoon, and he could no longer provide the dam of stubbornness. "I care about you too much to let you do that. As a friend and as your partner."

Gon's position did not change, and Killua silently admitted his defeat on the topic. He scratched his head anxiously, feeling the electric surges pulsating through his scalp at his butterfly touches. He mentally cursed Gotoh for even handing him the stupid paper in the first place before correcting himself. Gotoh wasn't the problem; _life_ was the problem, and the inadequacy to properly handle its curveballs fell on the shoulders of the two teens. But where did that leave him now?

And more importantly, where did that leave _Gon_?

He looked back at the half finished canvas, the speckles of paint barely forming a finished piece. Greens and blues that contrasted each other as they fought for completion; a competition to display their nature. _A metaphor_ , Killua thought sullenly, before sighing again.

"Peace," Gon whispered, breaking through his thoughts.

"What?"

"The last clue." Gon's other fist clenched tightly against his shorts, creating darkened green lines in the fabric. "The theme of the dream, if you want to call it that, is pure peace. Like when you look at it, it should calm you down, make you feel like all of your worries melt away."

Killua stared at Gon unmoving face, aside from the clenching of his teeth momentarily, and slightly grinned. He needed a little more pushing, he decided, but all appeared to not be lost. He wasn't running away, and he never declined the invitation all together, and a balloon of hope swelled in his chest. He regained his posture, gripping Gon's hand over the paint brush and mixing it some more paint. The colors that he chose this round were a stark contrast to the darkened hues on the canvas; purples and yellows leaving a heavenly grace in the negative spaces.

"Peace, huh? Is that what your dream represents to you?"

Gon nodded, his grip tightening underneath Killua's. "It's all that it ever represented to me. It used to be my happy place, where I would mentally escape to, until…" he drifted off, as if the rest of the sentence choked on the back of his throat and threatened to seal the hole in his mouth.

"Until?" Killua briskly painted the background with detail, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Gon swallowed, _why was this hard to say, as if I never said it?_ , and turned to where he thought Killua's face would be. It was then that he realized that he was holding on the stubbornness of his drifting cloud, as if he expected it to transport him somewhere safe. But when he looked back, he understood that he was leaving his safe haven of bliss, and purposely heading to the solitude of hell. And what purpose did it serve? What good would come out of tormenting himself, for the sake of saving someone who was never in danger?

In his act of redemption, was he unknowingly repeating the past, forcing himself to relive his own mistakes?

_No,_ a voice within argued, _your blatant ignorance and desire for naïve bliss will cause you to repeat the past. And Killua doesn't deserve to burn for your own selfish fire._

"Until?" Killua's voice teetered with anxiety, and it was then that Gon noticed that the painting motions had stopped.

"Nothing," he breathed, "is the painting finished yet?"

Killua frowned, looking at his own progress. His speed had improved, and the colors had finally started to take shape. He went back to his work, feeling the pressure of Gon's clenched fists pulsating against his palm. "Almost," he mumbled, "it just needs a little more work."

Gon resumed his silence, and the lack of words were louder than anything Killua had ever heard. If only Gon would say the words that Killua knew he wanted to- _help me!_ \- he would swoop down in his cape and rescue him, flying him to a place where not even his own thoughts could get to him. _Come on, Freecs. All you've got to do is let me ._

The next forty five minutes passed in this manner, the only sounds coming from the duo being the sloshing of paint and the hurried strokes of the brush on the canvas. Killua exhaled as he marveled the creation, convinced that Gon would too be pleased when his scarf had retreated his face.

"Alright, everyone, that should do it for today!" Bisky's eccentric voice pierced through the room, bringing Killua to the realization that he was adding unnecessary detail to an otherwise finished piece. He reluctantly let go of Gon's hand, placing the paint brush in the water and watching it swirl around and cloud the cup. Gon removed his scarf, his lids droopy and pressed to the ground. Killua watched him carefully, his heart beating at an intense rate as he waited for Gon to see the results of his work, hoping that he could create a visual to the place that Gon called home.

Bisky walked past, glancing at the works of their peers. "Very nice, Kojo. I appreciate your use of colors. Your sunset is blended perfectly, Yuri, excellent." She walked in their vicinity, and felt her breath catch in her throat. She studied that painting for several long seconds, in complete awe of the masterpiece that lay before her. "This…this is…" she struggled to find the adjective, not wanting to offend the artist(s). "Wow, just wow." She ran her hand up to her mouth, cupping it lightly before tearing her eyes away from the finished work. "The colors, the scenery, the overall tone and mood, this is _wise_ beyond a high school students years." She smiled warmly at Killua and Gon, feeling a familiar sense of pride beaming at her core, radiating through the pores in her face. "Forgive me for being so emotionally _me,_ but it's been _years_ since a student of mine has wowed me like this!"

"You think so?" Killua bashfully asked before finally hearing the sound that he needed to. Gon gasped, his honey suckled eyes being drawn into the scene in front of him.

"Do you…do you like it, Gon?"

Gon's mouth formed over his next words, a hazy recollection brewing in the blacks of his pupils. "Killua…it's _perfect_. It's….it's my _dream_ ," he breathed out the last word, as if saying it made it any less true.

Killua looked at again, fully grasping the serenity of it himself. The canvas was a picturesque sea of colors: blues and black intermingled to create a midnight backdrop, a concoction of greens, yellows, blues and whites merging into clear waters. The highlights in the lake that Killua made gave the impression that the water was pure in its form, a fountain of heaven of sorts. Yellows and whites were scattered throughout, perfecting the illusion of fireflies, with paler yellows used for the reflection of their lights. But the true beauty of the painting stood in the very middle: two fireflies, with more detailed bodies and lights that shone brighter than the others hovering over the lake. The viewer could realize that it was indeed _their_ light that illuminated the lake, and the others were white noise. They lingered close to the other, giving the impression that they were a complete set, and one would not shine as brightly if the other were not present. The added, intricate details of flower lilies and moss along the banks of the river made it seem so _real_ , yet the blending of colors made it unattainably dreamlike. Killua decided that if there was an afterlife, a direct form of some sort of heaven, then this was surely it. He prayed again to whomever, that he could venture there himself, with Gon at his side, shining brighter than any other souls present.

"I know this is a little sudden," Bisky said, her face contorting to a child's glee, "but can I _please_ borrow this? I have a very good plan for it soon, and I don't think I can take no for an answer."

"I don't mind, do you Gon?"

Gon shook his head, his eyes still stuck in the serene picture before him. He was hypnotized by the outcome, but more than this, he relished in the fact that _Killua_ had been able to recreate this place for him, almost as if he had picked the dream straight from his skull.

The exercise, he concluded, had indeed worked. In his full trust of Killua, he had gotten the results that he didn't know he needed.

Perhaps, he realized, the same could be true for his current predicament.

He waited for the voice of reason to let him know that he was indeed doing the right thing, but it never came.

"Thank you both!" Bisky removed the canvas, looking at it again before smiling. "Excellent job, the both of you."

"I can't take any credit," Gon mumbled, "Killua did the work."

"Mmmnn," Bisky shook her head, looking warmly at Gon, "not true at all. Killua might have helped you arrive at the destination, but without direction, you both would be lost."

Killua saw the words contort a change in the lines of Gon's face, the shadows under his eyes softening out to blend in with the rest of the hues of his skin. _Perhaps Bisky was able to…_

"I would need a title, of course," Bisky exclaimed, "for the purpose of my plan. I would tell you both what it is, but I'm a firm believer in surprises."

Killua watched Gon's brain rattle over different ideas before his face settled into a satisfied answer. He looked up at Bisky, his amber eyes sparkling with happiness and warming the insides of Killua's chest.

"I think it should be called _A Lake of Fireflies._ "

* * *

A tall gentleman with sunflower petal hair made his way through the jail, clutching a briefcase and a manila folder. He waved a hand off of his forehead at the correctional officer, inciting a nod and access through the gate. His smile was the only dazzling thing in this bleak place, and other inmates watched carefully as he proceeded down the long corridor. Most of them scoffed, mumbling _lawyer trash_ under their breaths at his obvious title, and scowled at his cheerful demeanor.

The man chuckled at their abrasiveness, mentally noting that they _wish_ they were so lucky to have his council. He whistled a tune and stuck his hand in his pocket, his grin spreading as he reached his destination. A correctional officer that was balding met him at the last gate, pressing a clipboard in his hand.

"Lawyers have unrestricted time with their defendants, but please be aware of the rules. You still gotta follow the normalcies, fancy titles or not. We're still allowed to monitor every visitor that comes through here, and _especially_ when it comes to this one. Sign here, here and here if you oblige, and don't get this guy all wound up like those other two. I don't want to deal with his prima dona attitude anymore, the son of a bitch. The last time we had to restrict his food so he would know who's really in charge around here. Until his overly entitled family showed up."

He signed the necessary spots and handed the clipboard back with an over-dazzling smile. The guard scoffed and looked over the paperwork. "Oh, so you're that guy that the media talks about. My wife hates you."

He laughed heartedly, clutching his barely existent belly. "Is that so?" His voice had all the bravado of a politician, unusually warm and conniving. "Well, you win some, you lose some."

"Eh, she's a crazy bat anyways. The only reason she cares so much is because you keep taking on the cases of the bad guys."

"Is there such a thing? Either way, it shows I'm doing my job. The world can think they're bad guys, but it's my job to prove the world wrong." He stepped through the gate and looked over his shoulder as he resumed his walking. "And I don't intend to fail now. Make that the last time you talk about my client in such a corrupt way. I'd hate for you to tell your disillusioned wife that you'll be standing in the unemployment line."

He reached his destination and was greeted by a raven haired woman. They turned in his direction, revealing the source of his arrival: Illumi Zoldyk.

"Well, good afternoon to you all," he straightened his tie and took the available seat. "I hope I didn't make you wait too long. Traffic and all of that."

"Mmm," Kikyo mumbled, her distrusting eyes peering into his coal ones. She had an overprotective hold on Illumi's hand, and Illumi appeared rather bored with the entire endeavor. "I pay you good money, and I expect you to be here as appointed."

He took out a yellow notepad, his pen gliding across the paper. "Be on time as appointed, check. Anything else?" He retracted the pen tip and placed in under his chin, a smug smile plastering his face.

Kikyo scoffed and waved him off with her free hand. "You're still a snotty little insect, aren't you Pariston?"

He smiled and closed his eyes. "And you still let your emotions get the best of you, eh Kikyo?"

"Mother," Illumi said robotically, his eyes appearing more withdrawn since she had last seen him. She was afraid to look to closely, a caution of being sucked into the void of space. Often times she looked at him and wondered where she had gone wrong to make him end up here.

With a frown, her mind went to the source of all of her problems: Alluka.

"Yes, my sweet?"

"Let him tell the news. I don't want to be bothered by this nonsense for much longer."

" _Oh_?" Pariston chuckled sarcastically, "do you have _better_ things to do, Illumi? Why, I would hate to keep you from your eventful calendar. Is there a walk around the security-heavy fence coming within the hour? A designated shower, perhaps?"

Illumi's face darkened in a frenzy of anger, his irises shrinking into threatening planets. "You wouldn't speak so freely if I wasn't a prisoner."

Pariston threw his head back and laughed. "Lighten up, Mr. Zoldyk. This situation can't get any worse afterall."

"This isn't time for your ill equipped jokes, you brute!" Kikyo shrieked, her chair creating angry squeaks against the tiled floor. "My son needs results!"

"Do you think," he sat his briefcase down and opened the folder, revealing a stack of paper, "I would be here if I didn't have results?"

Kikyo inhaled, a grin slowly spreading throughout her face. "Are you telling me it worked?"

He nodded, licking his top lip and moving to the second document. "Precisely. A few calls and a few favors and _presto!_ " He lay a single document in front of them. "A very real and unarguably bogus doctor form."

Kikyo looked over the paper, greedily consuming the words before them as if she were starving. Her eyes sparkled and marveled, and she released a tiny spurt of air. "I guess the money is worth it after all! This looks so legit even _I_ almost believe it!"

"I would like to see," Illumi's voice murmured, accepting the papers. He scanned over them before looking at Pariston, his face portraying no changing sentiment.

_How ugly_ , Pariston thought, _a man with no glow behind the sharp features. What a waste of genetics._

"So will this be enough?" Illumi's voice was void of any concern, and yet Pariston could see the anxiety crawling underneath the snow of his skin, leeching off of his stoicism.

"This will be _more_ than enough," he retorted, his mouth giving way to show off his brilliant white canines. "No judge would have the heart to lock away the mentally unstable."

"So what happens now?" Kikyo asked impatiently, her fingers creating music by drumming the hollow table. "What does this exactly mean?"

"As we discussed before, I can argue that my client has been diagnosed as having a mental illness, recently of course. The doctor in question is paid handsomely for his testimony, and he will say that he was in the process of medicating his patient when the unthinkable happened. Under his advisement, he will state that it will be in the best interest if Illumi spends his sentencing in an upstate six month treatment facility, the best that money can buy. Not only will this provide Illumi privacy and protection under HIPAA laws, it will also mean that he will walk free afterwards, the testimony of the facilities 'state of the art curing system.' He can successfully bow out of this with grace, and no one will ever know you Zoldyk's secrets."

"A _mental_ institution?" Illumi's spat the words out as if they were poison, disgust painting the lines in his face. "Are you _mad?_ Places like that reek of insanity!"

"That is the point, Illumi," Pariston retrieved the paper and placed it back in the folder. "Would you rather spend the rest of your life here?"

Illumi said nothing and sulked back in his chair, a deflated ego spilling out of the soles of his feet.

"As I thought. Besides, I wouldn't send you _anywhere_. The institution is luxurious, after all. It would be like a private apartment for you, people waiting on you hand and foot. It would be like you were at home."

"Except he's _not_ ," Kikyo squeezed Illumi's hand and looked at him with the sickening concern of a delusional mother, "but soon you will be, my love. As long as you let Pariston do his job, then everything will be okay. Mother won't let you rot in this filthy cage."

Illumi's eyes met hers, and for a second she was reminded of a bubbling two year old that followed her around like a shadow, mimicking her movements and not realizing that he was a boy yet. In a fleeting second, it disappeared, and the hardened eyes of the son she had grown to know emerged, obliging and obedient. He nodded once, studied the lines in the tile.

"Well now that we're all on the same page, there's only one thing left to do." Pariston pulled out an empty check and placed it before Kikyo, with the same charm as a used car salesman.

"The doctor won't pay himself, afterall."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAH I AM SO SORRY FOR MY ABSENCE!
> 
> I WISH I HAD A REALLY GOOD EXCUSE, BUT THE TRUTH IS, I'VE JUST BEEN WORKING AND BUSY, AND HAVE NOT HAD ACCESS TO MY COMPUTER LIKE I'VE WANTED.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER WAS SHORTER THAN INTENDED, BUT FOR THE SAKE OF PLOT, I'VE DECIDED TO SPLIT THIS COURSE INTO AN APETIZER AND ENTRÉE INSTEAD OF TRYING TO FEED YOU A SICKENING AMOUNT OF FOOD.
> 
> THANK YOU ALL WHO ARE STILL ONBOARD, AND THE NEW COMERS WHO HAVE LIKED, REVIEWED, FAVORITED, ETC. THIS STORY. IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!
> 
> I APOLOGIZE IF THIS CHAPTER WASN'T 'ACTION' PACKED, BUT I WANTED TO SPEND SOME TIME WITH GON HERE, POOR BUDDY.
> 
> THE REVIEWS OF LAST CHAPTER WERE SO GREAT! YOU GUYS REALLY SHOWED ME THAT I ACHIEVED WHAT I WAS LOOKING TO DO: MAKE Y'ALL FEEL.
> 
> I HOPE TO GET ANOTHER CHAPTER OUT WITHIN THE WEEK.
> 
> I WON'T DRABBLE, BUT I DO ONCE AGAIN ENCOURAGE REVIEWS! FEED THE WRITER! IT ALWAYS HELPS MOTIVATE ME WHEN IM FEELING WRITER'S BLOCK AND A LITTLE FUNKY (AND I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT A LACK OF A SHOWER)
> 
> ONLY 3 MORE CHAPTERS, GUYS!
> 
> YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!
> 
> -BITCHII-USA
> 
> PS. I HATE PARISTON. IF ANY OF YOU READERS HAVEN'T WATCHED SEASON 6 OF HXH (WHICH ISN'T ON NETFLIX ALONG WITH THE SECOND HALF OF SEASON 5) YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE HIM EITHER. EXPECT ME TO DIG AT HIS STUPID CHARACTER FROM TIME TO TIME IN THE UPCOMING CHAPTERS.


	13. Thirteen: The Magic of Broken Things

_**Thirteen** _

_**The Magic of Broken Things** _

***Warning: There's some fluff in this chapter. I mean, more fluff than normal, but don't our smol babies deserve some fluff after everything they've been through?

* * *

The last of the leaves were finally beginning to fall.

Killua watched as they paraded around his feet in a kaleidoscope of colors, taunting the bleakness of his gray sneakers. He smiled briefly at the sight before taking another sip of his hot cocoa, letting the warmth tickle over his tongue. The sun was beaming against the bare skin of his neck, but the weather outpaced its rays, as a cool wind whipped over his silver hairs, sending a shiver down his skin. He let the steam from the cup heat his nose, wiggling it around the aroma.

_Welp_ , he sighed, _today is the day._

He looked around the almost empty park, the last of the parents escorting their children from the playground. Their faces were flushed red from the upcoming cold air, their little noses wrinkling with dissatisfaction of having to cease their play. He tossed around the idea that one day he could watch Alluka do the same, if she hadn't decided at that point in time that she was too old for childish things.

The thought alone made his weight recline against the bench, the sharp, icy wood prickling his thin layer of a windbreaker. How much would he have to reteach Alluka when he introduced her to the world again? How much would she already know?

_A bridge of troubled waters that I'll cross when the time is right._

For now, the biggest hurdle was the test that came in the form of Gon. After the mini revelation in art, Gon had very slowly started to come around. Enough to where Zushi had casually mentioned the Wing exhibit, chewing the words around in his mouth until he felt he could digest them. Killua caught on, very briefly and fleeting, that Gon appeared to entertain the idea.

He texted him the night before, asking him to meet him at the park for breakfast. If he showed, which Killua thoroughly wished that he would, then that would mean that he had a clearing to toss around the suggestion again. _If_ he showed, Killua would try any and everything to convince him that missing out would be the biggest regret of his life. The determination coiled through his belly like a snake, piercing its fangs in his gut until he could barely breathe. The beginning forms of anxiety, the unrelenting clutches of concern; and yet he was desperate to win the case. Call him for what he was at the least: a Zoldyk.

He glanced at his phone, the pestering stock wallpaper taunting him in return. No missed calls, no new texts, no indication that Gon was on his way. Just white digits that scrolled over the top of the screen, a reminder that it was half past the hour. Half past the time of the scheduled meet up.

He placed it back in his pocket with a sigh, feeling something deep breaking inside of him. Had he been too optimistic that he could fix what was beyond his repair? He let so many things slip from his control, sitting idly aside while life took its cruel course and punished him in his helpless state.

Would he be forced to reluctantly add Gon to the phantom list?

A small flicker out of the corner of his eyes quieted his turmoil, his inner demons exorcised. A hint of a smile threatened his lips, which he unsuccessfully tried to hide. Gon approached, hands fiddling in the corners of his pockets as if secrets were buried deep within, his nose reddened in the cold. His summer skin was accompanied with an ethereal glow, and Killua felt his heart pang inside of his chest. His eyes studied Gon's demeanor, took in the way he buried himself in his thick jacket, his awkward steps pacing towards the bench. His eyes were unsettled, but signs of life emerged from deep within. The icy shrills of anxiety that plagued Killua prior melted away as he gazed into the sight of the rising sun walking before him.

"Hey, Killua," Gon's mouth slowly formed over the words, his raspy voice almost lost in the fall breeze.

Killua pat the seat next to him, butterflies knocking the linings of his stomach determinedly. "Good morning to you too, Gon." He noticed the way Gon's eyes reluctantly looked over the empty space next to him and he frowned. "Don't you want to sit?"

Gon nodded, taking a seat that was too close for his comfort and too far for Killua's. The temptation to reach out and wrap his arms around Gon and shelter him from whatever troubles brew in his belly became overwhelming to Killua, and he bit his lips and concentrated on the crunchy grass that squished between his sneakers. _Take it slow, Killua. Everything is best with slow movements._

"So," Killua sucked in a breath of fresh air, the action cooling the inside of his mouth like fresh mint leaves, "how are you doing today?"

Gon shrugged his shoulders, his eyes fixating on the stitching of his mittens. They were the brightest shade of red, a perfect complement to his ivory green jacket. "I could have slept better, but for the most part I guess I'm okay."

"Here," Killua leaned down and grabbed an isolated cup of tea, pumpkin spiced for the season, and handed it to Gon. "Call me presumptuous, but I knew you wouldn't eat breakfast so I picked you up a treat too."

Gon's eyes skidded to the side, taking in the beverage. He looked up briefly to see the emotions painting over Killua's face and instantly felt guilty. It was his fault, he concluded, that Killua had to feel this way. He took the cup without regret, silently noting that it was the least he could do. Bringing it up to his lips, he relished the warmth that pooled down his throat and found a home in his belly. Killua was right, if anything else: he had skipped breakfast due to being full from anxiety. The tea was welcoming if anything else, but it was not a distraction from the problems that slept between them.

"Thank you," Gon mumbled after taking another gulp, too fast he recoiled as he felt the top of his tongue scald. He didn't know how the tea managed to stay so hot, but grateful none the less that once again Killua seemed to be looking out for him.

""S no big deal, I can't let you starve, Freecs," Killua forced out a chuckle and Gon couldn't fight the grin that stole the corners of his mouth.

"Well," Gon sighed, winning the inner battle in himself and turning slightly to face Killua, "I'm sure you didn't have me meet you here so early to scald my tongue with tea." He ran his teeth over the pink snake's surface for emphasis.

"Wow," Killua raked a hand through his silver tresses, "and here I thought I would be the one to break the ice. Its' good to know that Gon is still inside of there, despite everything." He noticed the way that Gon's throat lumped as he took a deep swallow, and he reprimanded himself on his careless words before throwing that notion away. _It's better to be blunt than to tiptoe around his feelings like I've been doing. This is my last resort, afterall._

He cleared his throat and vomited the words that sat in the back of his throat for weeks. "Gon, I won't pretend to know exactly what it is that you're feeling in there," he poked Gon's chest lightly for demonstration, "but I can't express to you how much I _want_ to. I'm not sure what I've done to make you think that you can't talk to me, but tell me so I can fix it."

"You haven't _done_ anything, Killua," Gon choked out, voice barely audible, "I'm sorry for making you think that you're to blame for my problems."

"Stop that," Killua sighed, inching closer to Gon's thigh, "Stop thinking that you have these unfixable problems. I heard your story, Gon, just like you heard mine. And I won't lie: it's shitty. It's shitty, and it sucks, and we'll probably be talking about how bad that time was for us for the next 10 years, but I'm okay with that. I'm okay with talking about what happened and the screwed up thing I did if it means that I can talk about it with you."

Gon's eyes met Killua's head on, and Killua found himself momentarily tranced by the beauty that had woven itself in his honey irises. So many emotions dwelled there, so many unattached words that no one had dared to pluck. Killua knew that he was ready, but how disappointing would it be if Gon were to try to stop him before he had the chance.

"I don't know what to say," Killua continued, "to make you feel better. I just don't. I don't have a magical elixir to 'fix' you, or me for that matter, and I really don't care if we are ever fixed. So I'll just put it out there, and I'll tell you exactly how I feel, one hundred percent. You can choose to do the same, or you don't have to, but we can't move forward if we're still stuck in the past. Okay?"

Gon's eyes locked with Killua's, the intensity of his blue orbs weighing heavy on his head. Slowly he nodded, against the nagging voice inside that screamed for him to run away. Gon knew that he couldn't live his life like this, and Killua at least deserved an attempt at the better good.

Killua smiled radiantly, and Gon could almost taste the relief that washed over him. "Good. Then I'll start." Killua took another sip of his cocoa and took a deep breath, praying that his words had some sort of a healing effect. "After all of that happened with my family, I was lost, Gon. I was numb and tired and I just didn't understand anything anymore. One moment, I'm playing with my sister, and the next she's locked away like fine china that my parents didn't want us to touch. And I couldn't help but feel like it was all my fault, you know? I knew all about Alluka's multiple personality disorder, I had a first-hand witness to Nanika, and how yeah, sometimes she could say some weird things. But that's just who Alluka _is_ , or so that's what I always told myself. I didn't think it was some big bad thing that needed to be kept a secret, but I'd be lying if I said I knew that my parents wouldn't be disappointed at the revelation. There is no room for error in the Zoldyk family, there just isn't. And here I was, the 'golden child'," he scoffed at the phrase, "who practically fucked up in the worst way possible. And what made it worse is after we got back from the hospital, _no one_ acted like anything happened. Alluka's room was turned into an office for Illumi and everyone went on about their lives like it was okay. And I followed in line like I thought I was supposed to. I barely saw Alluka unless it was giving her some food, and I hated myself for it. Then one day, I saw that she had grown, and her hair had gotten longer, and it made me _sad._ Here was the real victim in the circus of a family, who had to live her life in the basement, pretty much nonexistent. And she should hate me, right? She should spit at my feet every time she saw me because I was supposed to protect her and I _failed._ " Killua looked up with teary eyes at Gon, whose own mouth formed a perfect circle with his bronzed lips. He was hanging on every syllable of Killua's words, which coerced him to continue. "But she didn't. Every time I saw her, she practically knocked me over with her hugs and her chants of, 'Big Brother! Big Brother!' and I swear to you I loved her more and more. But I couldn't help her, I didn't know how to help her, except wait until I was old enough to make some money and get a place of our own. The more that time went on, I began to sneak to see her more, much to the discontentment of my mother. She didn't want anyone to acknowledge Alluka, a visual reminder that something was amiss in her perfect little world. In some sick way, I think she blamed herself because she did give birth to her after all. The more I got to know Alluka, the more I knew that I couldn't abide by what my parent's wanted, unless it somehow benefited her. So I chose to slowly break away from anything Zoldyk: I stopped attending our family meetings about the council, I didn't participate in the elections anymore, and I withdrew from the boarding school. I begged them to send me to public school, telling them I would join the debate team or some stupid lie like that. I thought that it would give me a chance to really think, without every one knowing who I was or treating me like I was an enemy or a god. What I didn't expect," he narrowed his eyes to Gon's, letting his sentence finish through his pupils before they left his lips, "was to meet you."

He reached over and took Gon's hand in his own before reason told him to tread waters, and relished in the heat that radiated through the fabric. He gently jerked Gon closer to him until their knees were touching, and mentally screamed in delight at the fact that Gon didn't fight the gesture. Feeling provoked, he continued, "I remember the first time I heard you in the hallway, I couldn't help but think that I had never heard a melody so serene before in my life. It was like technicolor had been introduced to my otherwise gray life, and I didn't even know it yet. I think I fell for you the moment you sat next to me in art, and I haven't been able to pick myself up since. Yeah it sounds cheesy as hell, but it's the truth, Gon. All of my life, everything was loud in my head like two trucks colliding in front of me. But you brought the quiet that I didn't know I needed. You gave me clarity, you gave me purpose. And it scared the living shit out of me. I couldn't help but wonder how you would react, how you would see _me_ , if you knew what I had done. I thought you wouldn't want me around, because I saw you as being so goddamned _perfect,_ " Killua felt Gon wince at the phrase, and noticed the sheer disappointment that accompanied his face, "but the more I got to know you, the more I realized that wasn't true. You were secretive, always hiding something and sometimes I could feel this sadness blanketing you. And I was drawn to it, like you and me could somehow drown in our sorrows together. I realize how fucked up and unhappy that sounds, but it made me love you more. Like you could maybe understand how I felt even though we both never talked about it. And while I never imagined it was as deep as what you told me, your pain made me feel like we could finally meet at the head and grow together. Like I didn't have to worry anymore about being a monster in your eyes, because maybe you could soothe my inner beast and I could do the same for you. Knowing this, knowing that I could finally face what happened and not run from it gave me more courage than I ever had to step up and do what I had to do for Alluka. And that's why," he took off Gon's mitten and his own glove before intertwining their fingers, bringing the skin up to his lips for a kiss, "I _can't_ let you go. I can't let you wallow in your pain or guilt or whatever it is that you feel any more. I won't sit back and let you miss out on life, or Wing or _anything_ because I love you too much for that. I was scared before, but I'm not anymore, and that's all thanks to you. So I said all of that to let you see who I really am, and know what's really been going on in this head of mine, and that's why I called you to meet me."

Gon's eyes never strayed from Killua's, not even to blink, and Killua gulped down his nerves. He knew that he said that Gon didn't have to respond, but a light wave of frustration electrified his chest at the silence. As he opened his mouth to ask a question, Gon swallowed thickly and spoke.

"It isn't fucked up at all, Killua."

"What?" Killua shook his head in confusion.

"What you said," Gon coughed and gripped Killua's fingers tighter in his fist, "about it being fucked up that you were drawn to my pain. It's not because I did the same thing to you."

Killua drew in another icicle breath of air, afraid to say anything to stop Gon's soliloquy .

"I was scared too, Killua. I felt, and still feel, like what happened to my dad is my fault. If I hadn't been so persistent to have him in my life, maybe he wouldn't have tried to find my mom and create this family for us. Maybe he never really wanted to be a dad, but I didn't want to believe that. I thought it was best for me to be with him. I didn't stop to think about anyone else but me, and look where that got everyone." A tear cascaded down his cheek, and he gasped when he felt the warm fingers of Killua wipe it away before continuing. "I know it sounds silly, but my brain won't let me believe anything else. Even Aunt Mito told me that either way my dad would've done what he did, but I just _can't_ believe it."

"Why?" Killua asked before he could stop himself.

"Because," the word came out strained and thick on Gon's lips, and Killua realized Gon was about to confess something that had never been spoken aloud before, "because doesn't that mean that he _didn't_ love me enough to stay? That I was secondary to everything? That he still would have done that, and not have thought for one second about how I would feel about hearing the news? I want to believe otherwise, Killua. I _have_ to." Gon took a deep breath, tears cascading down his cheeks in a race to meet his chin. Despite his sobbing, he forced the words out, too far to turn back. "When I met you Killua, I realized exactly what I was doing. You were such a breath of fresh air, and you didn't hold me to some ridiculous standard of positivity. Our friendship was so foreign to me, but familiar. I just _had_ to be around you, I had to hang out with you. I had to get you try this spaghetti, or sketch with me or whatever, and I knew that I had feelings for you. I knew that I was using you to fill in the empty place in my heart, and I felt so guilty for that. When you kissed me the first time, I felt like I was on fire, and I knew then that I was selfish. You had real feelings for me, and they were genuine and not some scapegoat to run away from the past. I thought that it would happen again, that I would smother you with my own selfish needs and desires that I would cause you to self destruct. But I loved being with you, I love you, and I swallowed it down and convinced myself that it would be something we would never have to talk about. But then you showed me that paper, and it came crashing down. I didn't know how to face you after that, I felt so guilty and ashamed that you would realize that I was _using_ you to fill my own sadness and I couldn't stand the thought. I thought you would run, and I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"So what changed?" Killua whispered, his eyes stuck on Gon's. "If that's how you feel, then why did you come?"

"Because you painted that picture, Killua." Gon smiled, a contrast against the sad tears that flowed down his face, forcing a genuine smile from Killua. "You painted it and you showed me that you _get_ me. That even after everything, you still planned to stick around me. I realized that you _didn't_ fill the void that was in my heart; you created your own space. I thought that my feelings for you were because I didn't want to be sad anymore, but that isn't the case at all. You made me forget, even for a second, that I had become this person that could move on, even if I really didn't. And yeah, it's scary, because I don't know that that _means._ I didn't know I was even capable of feeling something for someone so deeply, but here you are. I don't know why that picture made me see that, but it did. I never felt so understood in my life, and it's because of you."

"I'm not surprised," Killua chuckled, scooting even closer to Gon, "you have this insane ability to pull things from pictures that's astounding. Even Bisky thinks so."

Gon scooted closer to Killua, finally giving in to the magnetic pull between them. Without any chance to listen to the voices in his head, he leaned his forehead against Killua's, running his free hand over his cheeks. He breathed in his smell, becoming aware how much he missed his aroma that delighted him. A breeze of ice and mountain and clean linen.

"I'm sorry, Killua," Gon breathed against his lip, unaware at how the action caused a heat to stir in Killua's abdomen, "I'm sorry that I pushed you away. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I just don't know how to get back to who I was."

"You don't have to be who you were, or who you _think_ you have to be. Just be Gon," Killua couldn't resist as he planted a small kiss on his lips, "Just be you, good or bad, and let me take care of the rest."

Gon smiled against Killua's lips, feeling the truth pouring from the flesh and into his mouth. He swallowed it before his inner voice could protest so that it would always be a part of him in case he needed confirmation. Killua reached his hand around to the back of Gon's head, the soft strands that resided at the base of his neck tickling his fingers, and pulled him into another kiss. Killua allowed his tongue to express the words that he didn't say, finding comfort and home in the Gon's mouth. How he had missed this, a passionate embrace between lovers, and unspoken contract between friends. He would never let this go again.

He pulled back to stare into Gon's eyes, letting them become a window to the depths of his soul. He wouldn't pretend that Gon was instantly better, nor would he act as if things would magically go back to the way that they used to be.

The answer was found in the highlight of Gon's blackened pupil, an unspoken agreement between the two. They would never be the same Gon and Killua who met in art class, who ate spaghetti in small café's and tiptoed around each other in protection of their own secrets. They wouldn't be the same lovers who ignited their passion on tiled floors or spoke declaration of love on sofas.

They wouldn't be those same lost souls; they would be _better_.

* * *

The galleria sparkled as if it had been repainted for this special occasion.

Kurapika stood at the entrance collecting tickets from the public, looking around in amazement at the turnout. He had been honored when the university approached him to help run the event, and he gleamed at knowing that he could shake hands with Wing himself. His stomach twisted in knots as he looked around the attendees for a certain bronzed skinned, emerald black haired teenager among them, and sighed when he realized that he wasn't in attendance.

He reached in his pocket to look at his phone, recounting the several text messages that he had sent over the week leading up to Wing's show. Normally, Gon would have rampaged Kurapika's inbox with elated texts, but his outbox was pathetically empty. Killua had told him a few weeks ago that Gon wasn't himself, but the lack of detail successfully let him know that it wasn't one hundred percent his business.

Still, as he surveyed the crowd again, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly had happened. While Gon would frequently go missing in action from time to time, Kurapika swore that nothing would stand in the way from meeting his idol. He debated on whether or not he should give him a call before Leorio strutted over, smoothing out his tie and looking disheveled.

"Geeze, is it just me or is it really hot in here?"

Kurapika snorted, twisting the canister on the lid of access tickets and straightening up. "I told you before we left the house that you didn't need to put on a business suit, Leorio. It was you who insisted on dressing so formally."

"Can you blame me?" Leorio gulped down the glass of wine in his hand and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "It's not every day that royalty comes around Yorkshin, you know."

"Wing is not the kind of guy who likes stuffy events," Kurapika motioned the attire of the crowd, most of the attendees dressed in business casual clothing, "I repeatedly told you that."

"Ahh well, the hell with it. It's not like I can do anything about it now, _mom_. When is he coming out anyways? I want to drink more, but I don't want to meet him with my head in my ass."

Kurapika shook his head and chuckled, saving his comments to avoid being called Leorio's parent again. "I'm sure he'll be here momentarily. Besides," his face saddened to a frown, "it's not the lack of Wing that bothers me among the guests."

Leorio scanned his eyes around the room, his mouth falling into the same saddened features as Kurapika. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I don't see Gon or his boyfriend anywhere. You don't think that he would miss something like this, do you?"

"I'd sure as hell hope not," a voice called from behind them, startling them both.

"Zushi!" Kurapika elated, pulling him into an embrace. "I haven't seen you in a while. I was starting to think you didn't like me and Leorio anymore, considering you missed the last two events."

Zushi's thick bushes of eyebrows formed and apologetic line as he massaged the back of his head. "Yeah I'm sorry about that, I've been helping my mom out a lot."

"Hmmpph," Leorio snorted, "seems you have to be some sort of celebrity to get you out of the house, kid. It's a sad day when status trumphs years of friendship."

"No, no, it's not like that Leorio. You guys know that I would've come had I'd been able to."

"Yeah, yeah," Leorio cut him a playful grin, "well you can make it up to us by telling us where the hell Gon is."

Zushi sighed and dropped his expression, nervously looking at the ground. "I don't know. He hasn't even talked about it in a while, but the last time I asked he said he would think about it. He's been going through some things, although I don't know what. I really hope he wouldn't miss this, I know he'd regret it."

Kurapika nodded, smiling to cut the tension. "I believe in him. Besides, he seems to have a good support in his corner. I doubt that Killua would let him wallow in whatever he's going through for too long."

Zushi's face perked up, submerging himself fully into Kurapika's optimism. "Yeah, you're right. Killua's a good guy."

A roar of applause echoed the room, silencing the worries of the trio. A middle aged man with slightly disheveled hair and an unkempt white shirt half tugged into his pants emerged from the back of the galleria, adjusting his glasses. He smiled shyly at the crowd, waving his hand in thanks. Kurapika could barely contain his glee at the sight of Wing, trying to push back the emotions of turning into a fan boy. Leorio whistled through his fingers, clearly feeling the effects of the potent wine that he downed moments earlier. Zushi clapped with wide eyes a smile stealing the corners of his mouth. Kurapika reciprocated the smile, before a lightning of sadness panged through his chest.

How ideal, that such a genius of a man had bestowed his presence upon Yorkshin, and how dreadful that the one person who would take the most from this was nowhere to be found.

Wing moved his way through the cheers, awkwardly adjusting his glasses. He stood in the center, in front of one of his most intimate pieces of work, the one that singularly launched him into his esteemed fame. A young girl stood in the busy streets of a metropolitan city, the streets buzzing to life behind her. The fast paced rain poured all around her small frame, the heavy umbrellas and large coats an indication of the cold, brisk air that whipped the city. Her strawberry blonde curls were frizzed and stuck to the sides of her face, intruding her eyes and sticking to her lips. A too , tattered yellow coat hung from her body loosely, letting the audience know that she perhaps came from a family of little wealth. Everything behind her was dimmed in black and white, but she burst alive in color, her smile radiant and toothy except for the two black pits in her top row. She was holding an ice cream cone, strawberry perhaps, that was dripping down her frail fingers and falling unto the ground below. A teddy bear, a sad worn looking thing, was gripped tight in her other arm, its leg skirting the puddle on the sidewalk. She was exceptionally happy, and Wing later told them that he bought her an ice cream cone because she stared sadly outside of the parlor while her parents bought bread from the stand in front. They hadn't been able to afford her one, but with one small gesture, she smiled so brightly that he had to take a picture. Fittingly enough, he titled the photograph, _Innocence_ , and it became published in many magazine sources, including _National Geographic_. Many were touched by the little girl's smile despite the circumstances around her, and Wing only found it to be right to give the majority of the proceeds to her and her family for helping him achieve his dream. Now here he stood, many years later, a man who had accomplished his dream and then some.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat and smiled at the crowd, "Thank you all for coming tonight. I know it may not seem like much coming from me, but I always am so surprised and grateful when people like what I put out there. For as long as I can remember, photography and art have always been engrained in me. It cost me many jobs and relationships," he chuckled along with the crowd, "but I'd be lying to you if I told you that it wasn't worth every sacrifice. Some photos will look familiar to you, and some are new, but all are originals that are available for sale. Each photo has a different charity that half of the proceeds go to, so I encourage everyone to ask about the photo and the story behind it. At the end of the showing, I will have a question and answer panel or just a general conversation between friends. I'm not very good at speeches, so I will leave you to your browsing, and I will be on the floor to if anyone wants to come say hi. And not to plug myself, but my latest book is available for purchase, and of course I will sign the cover if anyone is interested. Enjoy, my friends, and I hope that you love them as much as I do!" The crowd roared to life again, pleased at his pleasant courtesies and unaware at the sweat that was brewing down Wing's back as he had to make his speech. A liar he was not; public speeches terrorized him.

Kurapika, Leorio and Zushi decided to wait for the crowd around Wing to die down before approaching, instead checking out his latest photos and occasionally glancing at the door to see if Gon or Killua showed up. The sun was setting, creating a brilliant orange glow in the glass windows of the galleria and setting off the yellow spotlights inside. Kurapika felt his stomach turn, knowing that time was winding down and worrying that Gon had missed his chance.

No sooner than he decided to make one last phone call, the doors to the galleria chimed, and in walked a dapperly dressed Killua and Gon. The trio was instantly pushed in their direction, causing others to wonder if another celebrity had come out for viewing. When they noticed it was just two ordinary, albeit handsome, teenagers, they continued to ravishing of the man of the hour.

"Gon!" Zushi squealed, throwing himself against his longtime friend, "I was really scared that you weren't going to make it!"

Gon returned the hug, affectionately looking at Leorio and Kurapika simultaneously, and smiled. "I'm sorry I was so late guys. I had to prepare myself for this moment. I didn't want to meet Wing with my head up my butt."

"Hmmph!" Leorio smirked, "The little guy gets it!"

"It's okay Gon," Kurapika rested a hand on Gon's shoulder, "better late than never that's for sure. The best news is that you didn't miss the discussion panel with Wing."

Gon's eyes brimmed with delight as Zushi pulled away, and Killua smiled marvelously at the sight for sore eyes. He knew that it would take time, but it appeared that Gon was finally settling back into himself.

"I'm so glad! Killua knew that I shouldn't miss this opportunity, and I'm so glad he was right!" He looked around the room and took Killua's hand before his eyes widened. "Look Killua! It's _Innocence!_ That's the one I told you about!"

Killua squeezed Gon's hand, not missing the coy smiles that the trio threw their way, and looked at the picture in admiration. "It's beautiful, Gon. I'm glad you came, and I'm glad I can first hand see how great he is." Gon turned to face Killua, a love stricken smile plastering his face. Killua returned the gesture before leaning over to kiss his cheek. He meant his silent vow that he proclaimed; he would tell the world how much Gon meant to him if he could get him back.

"Aaagggh okay, okay, lovebirds," Leorio waved them off with a smirk, "save that for after prom or whatever you kids are doing now a days."

"You say that like you're so much older, Leorio," Kurapika teased, crossing his arms, "if I recall, you were doing more than they are back then."

Leorio leaned over and put his arm around Kurapika shoulders, his small glasses tipping down his nose. "Sssh with that perverted talk, Kurapika. Let's not taint these kids minds. I'd hate for Mito to have a reason not to shag with me, after all."

"Ewww, Leorio, can you not?" Gon laughed, waving him off. He led the group to the outer wall, looking on at the new prints of Wing. Several caught his eye, especially ones that appeared to be taken out of the country on a tropical island, many of the local natives gathering around for a dinner. An elderly woman who carried a baby on her back in a sling looked suspiciously at the camera while perched over a large tub, slicing a native fruit. The baby sucked its thump and gathered her hair in its small fist, a beaded shell bracelet adorning his wrist. The other natives in the background moved about preparing other foods, or lounging about drinking from large orbed fruits. The piece was titled, _Hello, Home_ , and Gon was captured by it with hardly contained enthusiasm.

"You like that one, boys?" A familiar voice called out behind them, and the group turned around and gasped loudly. Bisky stood behind them, looking uncharacteristically suave in long pink slacks and white button up blouse. She still adorned her strapped shoes, but long gone were the brown flip flops, replaced with white wedges. Her unruly hair was pulled in two pigtails that hung in curls around her face, making her appear to be quite younger. Standing next to her side, beaming with pride, was no one other than Wing himself, who waved at the young men in front of him.

"Bisky!" Gon exclaimed, his eyes unable to leave his idol, "Are you aware that _Wing_ is standing next to you?"

Bisky chuckled before turning to Wing, waving him off in dramatics. "This old coot? I'm very aware, considering that he has yet to leave me alone all evening."

"Wait, wait," Zushi said, lowering his head to take her words in, "are you saying you two _know_ each other?"

"Something like that," Wing announced, and Gon had to clutch his chest at the acknowledgment that he was _speaking_ to him. "Bisky was my teacher many years ago. She was the one who pushed me to follow my dream, and showed me that I even had a talent. I couldn't come to Yorkshin and not invite her."

"He says that like he doesn't visit at least once a year," she gleamed , "he makes an old woman feel pretty good about herself!"

"Just how old _are_ you?" Killua asked before he could stop himself, earning a nudge in the side from Gon and a glare from Bisky.

"And just where _are_ your manners, Killua? Almost makes me want to take back my little present for you boys."

"Present?" Gon and Killua looked at each other before looking back at her skeptically, confusion painted on their faces as if it was a permanent part of their skin.

"Aaah, so these are the two?" Wing gestured his finger toward them, his face beaming with astonishment. "Why, I feel honored!"

"Whoa, excuse me," Gon sheepishly laughed, trying his best to not sink to the floor with excitement. "First, let me say, _wow¸_ Wing I'm your biggest fan! I love your work so much, you have no idea how it inspired me to do my own work, and I mean I'm alright, I'm not as good as you, but who could be I mean, _look_ at this stuff, but you don't have to look right because you took it? I know, I get it I sound completely stupid, but you're my idol, and I mean that to not sound creepy, does that sound creepy? You probably think that I am a total scatterbrained kid, but you're so cool and amazing and-"

"Breathe, Gon," Killua chuckled, squeezing his shoulder, "take it easy."

"Oh, sorry," Gon grinned, nervously patting the back of his head, "I get a little excited when I meet someone that I admire. Well, I guess this is the first time that has happened."

"It's alright now," Wing held up his hands to let him know that no damage was done. "I was like that when I met some of my favorites as well."

"I think you want to know what I meant, right Gon?" Bisky smiled slyly, her excitement radiating around her like a shadow. Before waiting for him to respond, she motioned to Wing to continue.

"Bisky here has been telling me for the past few months of two students who were very talented. So much so that she had been inviting me to the school after hours to view their work. She even clued me in to this galleria where some of the photographs that one of them has taken has been displayed in past shows. Needless to say, I was _very_ impressed with the both of your work. You two have exceptional talent that goes wise beyond your years, and I was moved by so many of your pieces."

"Thank you," Killua said breathlessly, unable to comprehend that his work had been approved by someone of Wing's stature. Gon's mouth was floored, and he was unable to find the words to give his gratitude.

"No need for thanks," Wing continued, "it's the honest truth. The last piece she showed me, _A Lake of Fireflies_ , really impressed me beyond anything I've seen in such a long time, and it only solidified my decision. I was going to be making this announcement in a few months, but I suppose I could tell you boys if you promise to keep it a secret."

"Absolutely!" Gon managed to speak, although it came out high pitched.

"I've been offered a job at Zaban Institute of the Arts in Zaban City, as a professor of photography. I've been investing money into them for years, because I really agree with their education and their ability to find students jobs in the art field. It would give me a chance to slow down for a bit, and pass along some wisdom to students. Because of my investments, the university and myself partnered up to give away five full ride scholarships to freshmen for next year. Now normally, one has to apply and submit their works before receiving it, but I don't think that will be necessary for you two."

"W-what?" Killua gasped.

"Are you…are you saying?" Gon's voice was faltering out, while Kurapika, Leorio and Zushi began to cheer on at the unspoken present.

"I would like to make you two the first recipients of the Zabing Scholarship, the name pending," he chuckled, "if you two would accept."

Gon and Killua could barely find the words to show their appreciation, looking back and forth at the other in astonishment, unable to grasp the turn of events that had transpired.

"I take that as a yes, boys?" Bisky said while laughing, a hearty smile on her lips.

"Bisky," Gon breathed, "how could we ever thank you? This is a dream come true! Yes, a thousand million yesses!"

"Oh stop it," Bisky waved him off, "you two brought this upon yourselves! Your work speaks volumes, and your hard work doesn't go unnoticed. Now don't think this means that you don't have to turn in your final project or anything," she teased, "but you two are far too talented to not get the proper molding that Wing can give you. I'm excited to see where you two go, and I only ask that you're like Wing here and don't forget little old me."

"Anything, Bisky," Killua said ,fighting back his emotion. Without knowing it, Bisky had just gifted him a future, one that he didn't even know was possible, and a future for Alluka. He would take the blue planet that they resided on and put it on a chain if it meant her happiness for her selfless kindness.

"I'm glad to hear it you two," she looked at her watch before smiling at Wing. "I believe it's time for your panel Wing, and I don't want to miss it in case you decide to lie to these good people." She waved goodbye to them and tugged on Wing's arm.

"Please see me after the show, I would love to discuss the specifics with you, and I look forward to having you both in my class next fall."

"Thank you so much again," Gon said, and couldn't stop himself from walking forward and hugging Wing. Wing looked awkward, but quickly recomposed and chuckled, patting Gon on the back.

"You're more than welcome, Gon. It was definitely my pleasure."

Gon released him, his cheeks turning into berries at his embarrassment, but no one else seemed to mind. They were too busy in excited tones at the news for the both of them, and Killua reached out to squeeze Gon's hand.

"Killua," Gon's face radiated with the solar lights that hung above them, his smile one that Killua would remember for the rest of time, "can you believe it? That this is happening? To _us?"_

"No, I can't," Killua could barely contain his glee, shaking his head as if this would turn out to be some sort of cosmic joke, "but it's so perfect, Gon. So absolutely perfect."

And as Killua looked around the faces of his friends, the ones that he hadn't expected to make, he realized the words had never been more true.

Weeks ago, things seemed bleak and unfixable, as if the sorrows of he and Gon would swallow him whole like a hungry snake. He prepared himself to fight through the pits of hell, coming in contact with his own demons and Gon's, if need be.

And just like that, things turned for the better, the sun teasing to shine again after stormy skies threatened to reign forever.

Killua found more resolve than ever in that moment. He remembered an incident weeks prior, a flaming haired man and his pink haired partner stopping him outside of school, asking him for his side.

A side that Killua didn't feel he should ever tell the world.

Looking at Gon, he felt a fierce desire that he had a decision to make, not just for himself.

For Alluka.

For Gon.

For their future, that for the first time in forever seemed bright, a blazing sky of oranges and yellows and reds.

He knew right then, what his decision would be. And he knew the first step he had to take.

It was a dark tunnel that Killua had to go down, and while taunting and frightful, he knew it was the only path he had to take.

Now or never, Killua was more than willing to close the book of pain, and write his own story for once.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE DELAY AGAIN GUYS! LIFE, YOU KNOW.
> 
> OKAY SO FIRST, (AND THIS IS FOR MY A03 FRIENDS) THANK YOU GUYS SOOO SOOO SOOO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS! FINALLY BROKEN 100! I SCREAMED WITH DELIGHT WHEN I SAW THE COUNT! IN HONOR OF THAT, I'M GOING TO LINK THE PILOT CHAPTER OF WHAT I WAS ORIGINALLY GOING TO WRITE OF SUNGODS AND MOONCHILDREN AS. I CHANGED IT WHEN I GOT INSPIRED, BUT I THOUGHT YOU GUYS MIGHT BE INTERESTED TO KNOW HOW IT WAS ORIGINALLY GOING TO GO. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK, ILL LINK IT HERE, BUT IT WILL ALSO BE POSTED UNDER MY NAME ON BOTH SITES AS "OSGAMC ORIGINAL DRAFT"
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME. SERIOUSLY, IT MAKES ME FEEL SO GREAT KNOWING THAT YOU GUYS ARE PICKING UP WHAT I'M PUTTING DOWN, AND I WILL NEVER NOT TELL YOU HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME.
> 
> I DON'T WANT TO DRABBLE TOO MUCH, BUT I WILL SAY THAT I ENJOYED WRITING THIS HAPPY CHAPTER FOR MY BABIES. THE PAST FEW CHAPTERS WERE PRETTY SAD, SO IT WAS NICE FOR THINGS TO BE LOOKING UP.
> 
> IM PROJECTING ABOUT ONE MORE CHAPTER OF STORY, AND ONE CHAPTER OF HALF STORY, HALF EPILOGUE.
> 
> WHICH IS A RECORD FOR ME, BECAUSE I HAVE YET TO FINISH A STORY :P
> 
> AS ALWAYS, PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW! NOT ONLY DO I LOVE HEARING IT (EXCUSE MY EGO LOL) GOOD OR BAD, IT HELPS ME TO KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK, AND I WOULD BE REALLY INTERESTED IN KNOWING.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER, LESS FLUFF, MORE PLOT, I PROMISE.
> 
> ALSO, 10000 POINTS TO ANYONE WHO CAN POINT OUT A LITTLE CANON BISKY THROWN IN HUMOR/FACT HERE!
> 
> TILL NEXT TIME (AND HOPEFULLY NOT TOO LONG THIS TIME) GUYS,
> 
> -BITCHII-USA


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